


Aching for you

by LittleRedEmissary



Series: Superwolf [1]
Category: Supernatural, teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Supernatural (TV) Fusion, Canon Divergence, Character Death, Crossover, Druids, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, Emissary in Training Stiles Stilinski, Familiars, Fluff, Humor, Hunters & Hunting, Implied Castiel/Dean Winchester, Kidnapped Stiles, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Misunderstandings, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pack Dynamics, Protective Kira Yukimura, Protective Malia, Puppy Piles, Slow Burn, So basically everybody, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Spells & Enchantments, Superwolf, hopefully anyways, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-18
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-02-05 04:16:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 45,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1804975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleRedEmissary/pseuds/LittleRedEmissary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stiles tries to cast a protection spell on Derek and accidentally casts a spell much stronger than either of them expected, the duo has to relearn everything that they've learned about protecting the pack, because the old methods won't do anymore. With the infamous Winchesters coming to town Derek hopes that the hunters will just drive through town, but the pack has never been good that laying low.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rooted in You

**Author's Note:**

> Credit to the owners of Teen Wolf and Supernatural  
> I'm just writing off of their plot & Characters :) 
> 
> So I'm going to be honest with you all- I don't know how often I'll be posting. I will try to keep posting pretty regularly, but if I don't post enough and you want more, I'm pretty easy to contact. Just message my tumblr which is littleredemissary.tumblr.com
> 
> I also don't have a beta, or a proper word document at this point. My grammar and spelling are usually pretty good, but just message me if there is something that is really bothering you. I would love to have CONSTRUCTIVE criticism, if you guys want to message me.  
> I look forward to hearing what you guys think
> 
> I hope you enjoy!  
> -Kisa-

**Chapter 1: Rooted in You**

"You better know what you're doing." The gruff voice sidetracked Stiles from his task easily, and he snapped his head up from his work to give the werewolf a small sneer, "I've been studying with Deaton for like, a year, I'm pretty sure that I can handle a simple protection spell, Derek."

"If it's so simple, why is it taking so long." The bastard didn't even phrase it like a question. Stiles could feel his face twitch before he retorted, "Maybe because you are distracting. Look at you. You've been sitting there for like, the last twenty minutes just staring at me like a distracting-" He flailed his arms a little, obviously trying to find the right word, "distraction."

           A bored eyebrow lifted, but the Alpha stayed silent. Stiles looked back down at the symbol he'd drawn onto the floor of the clinic, trying to get back to the task at hand, he gritted his teeth in frustration as he smudged some of the chalk again to redraw the Celtic griffin. After a few minutes, he glanced back and forth between the musty book to his right and his art. Satisfied, Stiles nodded and grinned at Derek, "Almost ready."

          The wolf watched him in silence, and Stiles nodded before glancing down at his book, "So this is the griffin, it symbolizes duality because it's part eagle and part lion; so it will double as a symbol for you too. The griffin is good news and bad news. Good news, because it's crazy powerful, and it supports guardians, protectors of life and the afterlife, and it's all about loyalty, so it should fit our spell perfectly."

When Stiles went back to flip through a few pages of Deaton's text, Derek considered his words, "And bad news?"

          Stiles hesitated, but after a moment he wet his lips and kept his eyes on the book while explaining, "Well, it's kind of really powerful, and also one of the Celtic gods, so if we catch it's attention and it doesn't like our intentions, we're basically screwed-- hey, Derek! Where are you going?"

The man in question didn't even grace Stiles with a twitch of his eyebrows as he straightened his jacket, "Leaving. This is stupid, I'm not risking anything."

"Wh-Derek, no. If there is anyone who needs a protection spell, it's you. Allison said some scary-ass hunters are coming, and you know who always gets caught by hunters? You. It's always you Derek, and I hate it when you get taken by hunters because the pack goes nuts. There's this ridiculous power vacuum the moment that you're gone. Scott and Jackson both start throwing out orders that nobody listens to anyways, Erica growls at everybody, Isaac just vanishes and pouts somewhere in the loft, probably knitting another one of his damn scarves. Boyd just sits back and watches shit go down. Malia gets really violent, and Kira still doesn't know anybody well enough to say anything. It takes Lydia screaming to get them all to just shut up, and nobody listens to me! I mean, you guys don't really listen to me on most days but--"

"If I sit back down will you shut up?"

          Stiles gave his alpha an exaggerated nod, and although Derek gave him a strange look, he did sit back down. The boy took a deep breath before going back to work, hoping that if he stayed quiet the alpha would let him finish his spell. After a couple minutes, he opened one of the boxes he had sitting to his left. He drew out a small henna kit of Deaton's and began to work on his own flesh.

          Derek would never get used to the focus that Stiles managed to find when working on his emissary training with Deaton. The alpha knew that the boy had ADHD, so to discover that Stiles could manage a trance and meditation was surprising, to say the least. He was drawing what looked like a fancy tree and some kind of four corner knot around in, or maybe over it? Derek wasn't sure.

          He had a basic knowledge of Celtic symbols, but nowhere near the knowledge that Deaton, and even Stiles, had. When Stiles finally stopped drawing the henna symbols on his left bicep brachii, he turned to Derek and grinned, "Ready for the ultimate protection spell? It should not only grant you protection, but also alert me when you are in trouble. It's going to be awesome. See this?" Stiles gestured to the four corner knot, and Derek nodded, "It's called a Shield knot, and I've incorporated it in with this Dara Knot, which usually has a variety of purposes, but I'll be focussing on its roots. I think that will help ground the spell."

Derek's dry question snapped Stiles from his rant, "You think?"

"It'll be fine dude."

"Don't call me dude."

          Stiles ignored him and turned back to the ancient book to his right. He rearranged himself and Derek, pulling Derek's hand to over his heart and symmetrically putting his own against Derek's with the chalk griffin between them, "I need you to focus on trusting me. If you don't focus on the positive things, it'll screw this thing up."

Closing his eyes, Stiles felt the deep pull of meditation and in the back of his mind he could hear his own voice mumbling sacred chants that he had spent the whole week memorizing. His mind was easily pulled along elsewhere as he focused on the task at hand.

  
                                                                *                                                                            *                                                                                      *

  
           Derek let out a groan as he woke up. At some point he had lost consciousness, but he doesn't remember much, only closing his eyes and thinking about Stiles. Stiles! Derek was up and leaning across the space between them in an instant, his hand cradling Stiles' face. The spark had collapsed at some point as well, but when Derek touched him, Stiles' eyelashes fluttered and he blinked, wincing at the sudden light. Before Derek could even ask what had happened, a voice interrupted his thoughts, "Stiles, Derek, welcome back."

           Deaton's arms were crossed as he leaned against the counter on the far wall. He was watching the boys carefully, looking about as cryptic as usual, "I see you've worked quite the complicated spell here. A simple shield knot would have sufficed Stiles, the gods are rarely pleased to be called upon for trivial matters."

           As Stiles sat up, Derek quickly retracted the hand that he had forgotten on Stiles' face, he could feel heat creeping onto his cheeks, but Stiles was too busy pushing himself up off the ground to notice. The boy pointed an accusatory finger at Deaton and, with a voice so hoarse that sounded like he'd been shouting for days, he declared, "My pack is not a trivial matter, Deaton. Everything went fine, drew a little, chanted a little, had a brief vision with an ancient God, and it worked," Stiles glanced at Derek briefly before adding, "I think."

 Stiles frowned at the druid; he didn't even look like he was paying attention to Stiles' summary of the events. Sure enough, when Stiles finished, Deaton asked, "Stiles, may I see your arm?"

"My arm?" The boy in question held up his right arm, but Deaton shook his head and took the left one in hand instead, turning it so that he could see the inside of it. Deaton frowned a little, but it wasn't until Derek sucked in a quick breath that Stiles realized that something was wrong.

          The henna that Stiles had drawn onto his bicep was gone, and in its place was the same mark, knitted into his flesh in ink that looked as red as his alpha's eyes. "Deaton?" Stiles could be embarrassed about the high pitch and the crack in his voice later, he had more important things to focus on-- like how that wasn't supposed to happen. The vet released his arm before calmly asking Stiles to tell him exactly what he did, and the apprentice recounted everything perfectly, until he got to trying to tell the story about his vision.

"I can't really remember much."

"What do you mean you can't remember?" Derek spoke through gritted teeth, but it only made Stiles snark back, "What do you think it means, you furry, freak?! I. Don't. Remember. I was out for hours and the only thing that I remember is a voice telling me to keep tying the two leather cords that were in my hands into infinite knots over and over again. The knots kept undoing and I had to keep tying them until they stayed tied."

          Derek opened his mouth to retort to Stiles, but when Deaton approached again he was looking contemplative, so Derek bit back the words and waited. After a couple moments the druid finally explained, "I think I might understand what you did."

"Wait, you think I did it wrong?" Once again Stiles' voice had gotten significantly higher than usual, causing it to crack because of how raspy his voice was. but Deaton ignored it, "While you seem to have successfully completed a kind of protection spell, I don't think that it is the kind that you were hoping for, and if the griffin had you tying infinite knots, I am going to have to speculate that this spell is permanent." 

Derek began to growl low in his throat, making Stiles swallow hard as he asked, "Okay, so what do you think I did?"

          The druid watched him for a long moment, until the boy fidgeted a few times, and then finally Deaton let out a heavy breath before picking up the book that Stiles had been using for the spell and setting it on the table. "I think that when you chose to weave the dara knot into the shield knot, you connected yourself to Derek instead of simply rooting the spell more securely, and I believe when you were tying those infinite knots together, you were binding yourself to Derek in a more," he paused for a moment, as if considering his word choice, "permanent manner. You're both going to find yourselves relying on one another like you've never had to do before."

"I'm going to rip your throat out."

"Yeah," Stiles swallowed before continuing Derek's usual threat, "With your teeth. Got it."


	2. Barking up the Wrong Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Stiles tries to cast a protection spell on Derek and accidentally casts a spell much stronger than either of them expected, the duo has to relearn everything that they've learned about protecting the pack, because the old methods won't do anymore. With the infamous Winchesters coming to town Derek hopes that the hunters will just drive through town, but the pack has never been good that laying low.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is really short, but the Winchester's POV chapters are going to be pretty short until the two groups meet properly, so just be patient with me please? Sorry, I feel like such a tease putting such a small chapter up :(  
> It'll just have to do though, I'll try to get the third one up sometime this week!  
> Thanks, let me know what you think.  
> -Kisa-

**Chapter 2: Barking up the Wrong Tree**

"So get this, that town that Bobby is sending us to? It's a town in California where, and during the last six months over fifty people have died because of animal attacks." Sam looked up to Dean from his computer screen, "Bobby mentioned the place a couple years ago too, Beacon Hills, do you remember?"

Dean glanced up before going back to packing, "Yeah, it had a sacrifice problem right?"

"That's the one. The sacrifices were all threefold deaths. Bobby mentioned it while we were hunting a few demons in Ohio, but by the time we got back to Bobby he said that he hadn't heard anything more and that he'd let us know if it wasn't sorted out."

          Dean zipped up his duffel bag before walking over to sit across from Sam, grabbing his sandwich off of the table and taking a bite. Between chews he asked, "So what, you told Bobby that we'd check out a case of rabies just because it smelled off a few years ago?"

          Sam's gave him a look before explaining, "I checked out the people who died from the animal attacks. They were almost all male, and Garth knew almost every one of them. Whatever lives in Beacon Hills has been killing hunters, Dean."

"So they must've be going there to hunt something."

"Yeah, and if it's killed that many hunters, then it must be tough."

"Pack your bags, Sammy, looks like we're going on a hunting trip."

  
                                                                         *                                                                            *                                                                              *

 

           When Dean drove into Beacon Hills, it was too late to investigate anything. The town seemed pretty small; they drove past the sheriff's station, a video store, and a coffee shop on their way into town. Sam was still asleep, but Dean knew that it wouldn't take him long to find the coffee shop tomorrow. His brother was developing a preference towards researching in public, which suited Dean just fine. They spent a lot of time together, so sometimes they both needed a bit of space. 

           He pulled up to the only motel in town, there was one or two hotels, but the hunter lifestyle required a direct entrance from the outdoors, after all it would probably freak people out if they walked out of the elevator in a hotel wearing some monster's blood caked on their clothes. It didn't take too long to get the room set up, and Dean didn't bother waking Sam until he went back out to grab their bags. The duo carried their supplies inside before settling in. 

          Before long, it was morning and Sam was clicking away on his laptop. When he heard his brother wake, the younger began speaking, "It's a small town with little news other than the killings that Bobby told us about over the last couple of years. Almost all of them are unexplained in the newspapers, including a few vague stories that Bobby didn't mention, and the stories just kind of died out."

Dean huffed a laugh, "Died out. Really? That's the term that you're going with?"

         Sam gave him a look before continuing, "There were reports about two years ago about another series of animal attacks, but they stopped after a month or two. There were also some unexplained deaths with a rumor about some kind of lizard, and a hold up at the sheriff's station. Finally, about a year ago there was talk about some weird power outage and some kind of bombing, maybe a terrorist thing, there isn't much information about any of this. Other than that, it was calm except for a huge house fire somewhere between ten and fifteen years ago." 

Dean made a non-committal sound, so Sam just kept talking, "Bobby sent me an email- sounds like there are some Argents living here."

"Argent? Where have I heard that before?" Dean grumbled, pushing himself out of bed. Sam rolled his eyes, "It's a prestigious hunting family who descended from France. Argent means silver in French, they specialize in hunting werewolves. However you probably remember it from Kate Argent, a hunter we bumped into at the Roadhouse once."

"Kate Argent? Right, she was the one with the nice rack and the silver necklace, right?" Dean threw his suitcase on the bag, digging out some essentials, "yeah, I remember her, she was hot. On that note, I'm having a shower, Sammy. There's a coffee shop down the street, if you want a change of scenery." Grabbing his razor and shaving cream, Dean ducked into the bathroom.

          Sam made a face at Dean's back, but then turned back to his laptop and started packing up his things. After about half an hour at the coffee shop, Sam had expected to find out more about what had happened, but beyond "animal attacks" nobody in the papers had even seemed to put forth even an attempt at seeing what was wrong, and even the strange stories about what had happened in the past were mysterious with very little information available. Unfortunately, it was looking more and more like he and Dean were going to have to talk to the Sheriff. 

          The younger Winchester frowned at his computer, at a loss at where to go from where he was. A clatter, followed by a hiss and an apology brought his attention back to the shop around him as an uproarious voice yelled, "Greenburg, this is why you're benched this season! Why is it that every time something goes wrong it's always you?!" 

          Sam turned back to his computer, trying to block out the ruckus, but he just couldn't seem to get anywhere with his line of thought. After a couple more minutes and a refill for the go, Sam closed his laptop, packing up. When he stood and carried his things towards the door, there were two kids in line. One was a pretty redhead who didn't look like she was paying attention to her companion, and one was a boy with moles across his face and arms gesturing drastically. They didn't particularly stand out among the other students, but while he was passing he could hear their conversation. 

"-just saying that I don't understand why you've suddenly decided to invite me to everything. I thought you  _didn't_ like me." The boy complained. 

The girl threw her hair over her shoulder, and then inspected her nails before her bored response came, "I never disliked you, Stiles, I just knew better than to give you any kind of hope." 

"Is this about my crush on you?" His hands had practically fallen to his sides momentarily, and he looked far more confused than anything. 

"This is about the crush that you  _used_ to have on me, yes." She switched hands, inspecting the other nails. 

He frowned, "What are you talking about? I never said that I was over you. There's a ten year plan, Lydia. It was just pushed up to fifteen after the whole Jackson incident." The boy was starting to talk with his hands again, but thankfully it was no longer rush hour, so there was enough room for Sam to walk past the kids without getting close enough that the boy could accidentally hit him. 

          The girl gave her companion a smirk as she said, "You don't have to tell me. I already know. Let's see, you're in your first year of university at Berkeley, instead of Stanford, and instead of living in dorms there, you're still living at your dad's place here. That isn't because of me, since I am just here to help you guys out for a bit _and_ I'm going to Stanford. Thankfully I live close enough to drive. Just face it, you stayed behind because of Derek."

           Sam pushed through the door and just as it was closing he heard the kid sputter some kind of shocked sound. The door closed behind him and Sam turned left towards the motel, apparently Sam had to dig out the FBI suits.

 


	3. The Roots Run Deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Stiles tries to cast a protection spell on Derek and accidentally casts a spell much stronger than either of them expected, the duo has to relearn everything that they've learned about protecting the pack, because the old methods won't do anymore. With the infamous Winchesters coming to town Derek hopes that the hunters will just drive through town, but the pack has never been good that laying low.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Guys, so here is chapter 3! I hope that you guys enjoy it, and let me know what you think! There will be Spn on Tw action soon. Exciting stuff. Well, it's kind of crossover action. Whatever, you'll see. 
> 
> Anyways, I'll try not to be too long with the next update!

**Chapter 3: The Roots Run Deep**

  
             At first, Stiles didn't notice anything wrong. He thought that maybe Deaton had exaggerated when he talked about the potential problem. Almost a week more of his emissary training had passed when he first felt it. Stiles was sitting at his desk when a sudden wave of pain shot through his shoulder, and he gasped, clutching his shoulder as he waited it out. It took about five minutes to fade back to feeling as good as new and once he got back to writing his bestiary, it seemed odd, but he tried to ignore it, until a similar agony shot through his side, and then his ankle. He gritted his teeth through the pain until it was gone, drew himself a bath, and told himself that he just needed to relax. 

Stiles told himself that it was simply the stress of all of the hunters who had been attacking the pack lately- for people with a code, there sure were a lot of them who didn't do their research before attacking.

  
It happened a few more times on separate occasions, each time the pain varying different amounts, and eventually he mentioned it to Melissa, who suggested he come and get checked out just in case. When he left the hospital they assured him that he was in peak condition, and asked him to let them know if he had any more problems.

  
           When he finally solved the mystery, it had been almost two weeks since he cast the spell, and the pack was training, leaving the humans to sit on the porch. Thankfully it, along with the rest of the Hale house, was much sturdier now that Derek had rebuilt the place. Everybody helped out some, but Derek did the majority alone; it was a pretty solid achievement, actually. Stiles ran a hand along the new porch, admiring it. Derek had only finished the place about a month ago, and seeing as Stiles wasn't part of the lunar club, he didn't exactly spend a lot of time checking out the mansion.

  
"You should get Allison to teach you how to fight." Lydia said. When Stiles looked up, she was settling down beside him. He scoffed, "Yeah, right. Because I could totally hold my own against werewolves. I'm not exactly UFC material, Lyds. I'm sure she could teach you some self-defence or something if you want though."  
Lydia rose a perfectly sculpted brow as she said, "You forget that I paralyze them with one scream. Meanwhile, if you want to defend yourself you either need mountain ash, or five minutes with a spell book."

  
"Anyone can learn how to fight, Stiles," Allison added as she came out of the house to sit on the other side of Lydia, "Besides, it might be a good idea to learn everything that you can. You never know when you're going to need it."

Stiles huffed, "You sound just like Heather," after a moment he looked down at his lap and mumbled, "Not that woman's self-defence did her any good."

  
              Stiles could see Lydia reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder, but when she was about to make contact, his stomach lurched. Sharp pain burned through his abdomen, and he doubled over. He could barely hear his own voice screaming and in the back of his mind, he could hear one of the wolves howling. People scrambled around him, tugging at his arm, and asking him what was wrong. After a few moments the pain shifted, becoming more dull, and after a few minutes he let his eyes flutter open. He was laying on his side, his arms wrapped around his own torso and Derek was leaning over him with a scowl on his brows. It was almost comical, but Stiles couldn't find the energy to laugh. 

"It's okay, I'm fine. I'm fine." Stiles assured, but none of the wolves moved. Finally Lydia demanded, "What was that? What do you mean you're fine? That didn't look fine, Stiles."  
He hesitated before explaining, "It's okay, I've had it checked out, Melissa thinks it's just a stress thing, or something. Don't worry about it, our local Grey's Anatomy didn't find anything."  
"Stiles," Scott hesitated for a moment, glancing at his alpha before looking back to Stiles, "You were clutching your stomach."

"Yeah buddy, just a muscle thing or something, probably." Stiles pushed himself up until he was sitting. Scott looked at Derek this time, "Malia just got you pretty bad in the stomach."  
The coyote was hovering behind Scott, her eyes glowing an eerie blue, seemingly unable to calm herself. Despite their breakup, the two were still fiercely protective of one another.  
Stiles wanted this conversation to be over, it wasn't like that had anything to do with him, but Kira's soft voice made him freeze just as he was about to stand up, "Your tattoo was glowing."

 

* * *

 

  
"Coincidence." Stiles announced as he laid back on Deaton's table. "It was a coincidence. The shield knot and Dara knot on my arm weren't glowing. Tattoos don't glow. It was probably just a catch of the light or something. Scott, buddy, tell your girlfriend that tattoos don't glow."

Scott didn't even get a chance to answer, because Jackson growled from the corner, "Shut up Stilinski." Then Deaton was talking.

"Well, it's entirely possible that your... unorthodox experience with the Griffin affected the tattoo. Kira, will you tell me again what happened?" 

  
             She nodded, straightening a little from where she sat on one of Deaton's counters. It was a tight fit for the pack of twelve and a half. That's right, even Peter was there, claiming that it sounded too interesting to pass up, despite Stiles' protests. Kira explained, "We were training, and Malia managed to get her claws into Derek's stomach, and as he howled Stiles started to scream. He fell to the ground with his tattoo glowing, holding his stomach, and he didn't stop until Scott took some of his pain away."

  
            Deaton nodded, looking grave as he looked at Scott and Derek, both who were hovering over the table, "This could be a problem. Derek?" The alpha in question nodded and Deaton continued, "I'm afraid this might hurt him a bit."

"Wait- hurt who? Hurt me? Why are you asking Derek's permission to hurt me? You should be asking me for my permission to hurt me. Why do you want to hurt me?" Stiles' rambling was ignored as Derek narrowed his eyes, but nodded to the vet.

"It's important Stiles." Deaton picked up a scalpel, but waited. The patient's mouth fell open as he glanced at the blade, but despite his nerves , Stiles found that he had started nodding his head as soon as Derek made eye contact and nodded at him.

  
            A sharp pain seared through his arm and Stiles hissed, but Deaton was already withdrawing to wrap a bandage around Stiles' arm. The boy opened his mouth, but before he could ask anything, the vet said, "Derek." 

 

  
            The alpha nodded, holding out his arm, Stiles, who was starting to get pretty overwhelmed at this point, began talking again, "Wait, wait, will somebody please just slow down and tell me-" Stiles hissed, grabbing his arm tightly as pain flourished again.

"I expect only the Gods are capable of such things." Deaton's voice was just as infuriatingly calm as usual, but when Stiles opened his eyes to snark at the man he found the whole pack gawking at him, save for the older Hales. Peter was smiling, looking creepier than usual as he alternated between staring at Derek and then Stiles, while Derek was glowering at Stiles. Lovely.

  
            The pain faded just as the wound that Deaton had inflicted on Derek healed. "No," Stiles could hear his voice getting high with denial, "No, no, no, no. This isn't a thing, this isn't happening. Derek gets hurt all the time, horrible things happen to Derek, he gets tortured on like, a weekly basis, this is not happening!"

  
            Once again the whole pack began to talk simultaneously, but after a moment Deaton rose his hand and silence fell over the teenagers. The druid looked at Derek before saying, "It appears that any pain you feel, Stiles also feels. However Derek, you also have a higher pain tolerance than Stiles does."

"He only feels the pain though, right? I mean, he doesn't have the actual wounds, so he'll be okay, right?" Scott's voice was starting to sound a little bit panicked, and if Stiles was a little bit less worried himself, he would probably find it in himself to comfort the boy who was practically his brother. Instead, he swallowed hard as he listened to Deaton. The man frowned before answering, "Physically? His body should be fine, but psychologically?" The vet gave the alpha a hard look, "It could destroy him."

"Whoa-ho-ho there doc, let's not get carried away." Stiles forced a laugh out before continuing, "Destroy is a pretty strong term, how about, "cause temporary discomfort, or maybe, turn my smile upside down, huh? Those both sound more accurate, right?"

  
             Deaton frowned at the boy who was sitting up on his table before looking back at Derek, which was starting to rub Stiles the wrong way. After all he was the one who drew the short straw, shouldn't Deaton be explaining it to him? Deaton said, "The damage that the unexplained pain would do to him psychologically, combined with the darkness within his heart from the nemeton could be a horrible combination that could cause serious ramifications with his psyche, especially because we don't know how the nogitsune effected these things. It would cause serious problems for an ordinary human, but with a human with Stiles' affinity for magic, or, as we refer to it, his spark, it could very well become disastrous."

"Define 'disastrous'." Stiles hedged, and when Deaton looked at him, his eyes were grave, "Think, Julia Baccari."

Scott stood a little straighter as he hissed, "Wait- like Jennifer Blake Julia Baccari?"

Deaton nodded, just as Malia glanced around the room before asking, "Who?"

             Lydia explained, "The Darach that we dealt with a couple years ago. She used to be a druid, and an emissary for the Alpha pack. We've probably mentioned the Darach before."  
Malia nodded, looking thoughtful. Derek stared a Stiles for a moment before glowering at the vet, "So what, if I get hurt at all he's going to become another Darach?"

"Not necessarily," Deaton explained, "but if he gets put through too much anything could happen."

"Well what's too much?" Isaac asked. 

Deaton turned to look at Stiles as he answered, "I don't know."


	4. Tap That

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Stiles tries to cast a protection spell on Derek and accidentally casts a spell much stronger than either of them expected, the duo has to relearn everything that they've learned about protecting the pack, because the old methods won't do anymore. With the infamous Winchesters coming to town Derek hopes that the hunters will just drive through town, but the pack has never been good that laying low.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Please ignore and/or message me on tumblr if you find any grammar and/or spelling mistakes. My work kind of objected to being transferred to AO3.**
> 
> Hey guys, I hope you've all been enjoying it! I don't know how much longer I'll make this- at least 3 or 4 more chapters, maybe more if inspiration strikes. Feel free to send me other prompts (or even just a friendly message) at www.littleredemissary.tumblr.com/ask Thanks so much! :) 
> 
> P.S: Stiles' names for Scott and Derek in his phone are both from mythology. I recommend you check them out because mythology is probably the most interesting thing that we have left from civilization's history (in my opinion, at least).

 

**Chapter 4: Tap That**

 

                 Stiles quickly did his seat belt up in the Camaro. It was nice that Derek had it back again, and Stiles still wasn't sure why he had ever started using that other piece of crap car. He chattered as Derek ripped away from the clinic, "It's not a big deal, right? I mean, I'd make a horrible villain. I'm not villain material- not tough enough. Hey! If I became a Darach I'd probably just have to sacrifice myself anyways, amiright?! I mean, Virgins, philosophers, guardians, teachers, and healers? I hit like, every one of those categories. Well, kind of. I mean, obviously I'm a guardian, because I'm working on being your emissary, so once I become a part of your pack, I'll be guardian material, right?"

Derek gave him a sharp look, making Stiles pause for a moment before asking, "What?"

                The alpha set his jaw, but Stiles knew better than to say anything. If he spoke then Derek wouldn't say anything, so instead he sat as still as he could, waiting. Finally Derek grumbled, "You're already pack."

"What?! No I'm not!"

"Yes." Derek's tone reminded Stiles of when his dad used to tell him, because I said so, that's why. But that wasn't good enough, Stiles had to know exactly when this had occured.

"Oh! So an emissary-in-training counts as pack too? Awesome. Hey, I started training like, a year ago, why didn't anyone tell me when I became part of the pack?" Stiles watched at his alpha rolled his eyes, "You've been pack for years, Stiles."

"Wait- like, before I started training to become your emissary?"

"Yes."

              Oh, Derek was starting to get angry now. Sometimes Stiles considered himself smart enough to change the subject when that happened, but more often he kept pushing. Today was one of those days, so instead of taking it as it was, he insisted, "Then why wasn't I ever invited to pack meetings?"

"Stiles, you call the pack meetings."

"Wait- the only pack meeting you ever have are when I call them?" Derek didn't dignify that with a response. How could Stiles ever doubt that he was pack? He let the guy cast a spell on him, for Gods sake. Stiles was smart enough to figure out that Derek didn't trust easily, so why wouldn't he think that he was part of the pack?

"Awesome." Stiles grinned before staying silent for a pause.

                Derek relished in the silence for the moment, but he knew it would never last. Sure enough, soon Stiles was continuing his rant from before, "Okay, so yeah. Gaurdian, check. Teacher is obviously a check, because I'm always the one educating you lycanthropes on supernatural creatures. Philosopher is a check, I mean, I'm a deep thinker, right?" he, wisely, didn't wait for Derek's response, "Right. So what does that leave? Oh! Deaton and I have been working on healing right now in my training, and I'm doing awesome, so that one's checked off. And since nobody has expressed any kind of interest in tapping this ass so far, I think it's safe to assume that it'll stay that way until I potentially become evil, so there. I'd have to sacrifice myself first no matter what category I started with." Stiles glanced at Derek and frowned, "What?"

                 Derek was staring with his eyebrows raised high. At Stiles' question, his eyes snapped back to the road, but Stiles was clearly waiting for an answer. He kept his eyes on the road as he mumbled, "You want someone to tap your ass?"

                 The speed at which Stiles's blush rose on his cheeks was actually pretty impressive as the boy quickly turned his head so that he, too, faced the road. His tone implied nonchalance, but he scent hadn't recovered from the embarrassment as he brushed off Derek's implication, "Just an expression, Souralpha."

                   Thankfully Derek was just turning onto Stiles' street, so they didn't have to sit in the awkward silence for long. When Stiles hopped out of the Camaro, he forced a smile and a light tone of voice as he spoke, "Well, it was good hurting with you, oh alpha my alpha, let's try not to do it again sometime. No, seriously, Stiles doesn't handle pain well, please don't do anything painful."

Derek nodded sharply, and as soon as Stiles closed the door he floored it. Speeding down the street, trying to get the scent of Stiles' thinly veiled nerves out of his memory.

 

* * *

 

 

                     It was almost like Derek was _trying_ to hurt himself, that, or he was trying to punish Stiles somehow by hurting himself to hurt him. Stiles hissed aloud, as he clutched his shin. It felt like Derek hit it on something. Hard. As the token human of the group, Stiles had always felt like he was the one who always hurt himself. He was the clumsy human, Allison was the dexterous human, Danny was the athletic human (Stiles had heard that he knew about the supernatural, but he still wasn't really pack yet), and Lydia had the grace of a Goddess; she was a banshee but Stiles still considered her an honorable human.

                So why was Derek always hurting himself so much _now_? Stiles picked up his phone, deciding that he would try to get to the bottom of this. After all, for the last few weeks, when Derek didn't know about the spell, there had been almost no pain, and all of a sudden there were little pains all the time. It was getting to be ridiculous.

_To: Fenrir:_

_Was that really necessary? Dude, if you're trying to punish me for getting us into this mess, I'm sorry, okay?_

Stiles quickly backed out of that message and sent one to Scott, who had told Stiles that he was going to Derek's today.

_To: Lycaon:_

_Dude, I thought you were going to make sure he didn't hurt himself!_

Scott answered right away.

 _From:_ _Lycaon:_

_Sry, Drks trying a little too hard_

_To: Lycaon:_

_What do you mean?_

_From Lycaon:_

_He cracked his shin bc he was trying to dodge a small tree that Jcks knocked over_

_To: Lycaon:_

_How did Jackson accidentally knock over a tree?!_

_From: Lycaon_

_Erc kinda threw him into it_

Stiles shook his head at the L.E.D screen. Werewolves. His phone buzzed again, twice in succession. He switched conversations, looking at the texts that Derek sent back.

_From: Fenrir:_

_I'm not._

_From: Fenrir:_

_Sorry._

                      Stiles stared at the message. Usually he would feel the urge to gloat about Derek's meek attitude towards him, Stiles couldn't remember a time that Derek ever apologized to him, not even after he left Beacon Hills the second time, but somehow Stiles just felt guilty. Scott hadn't been the first person to imply that Derek was going over and beyond the call of duty when it came to trying to avoid pain- it wasn't his fault that he was crappy at it. Sighing, Stiles turned the display of his phone off- he didn't know what to say to something like that. Instead, he closed the tab that he had open on his laptop. It wasn't actual information about the Griffin, it seemed to be some fictional bullshit. Maybe he would go out and get another coffee from that place downtown that Lydia liked.

Unlike her taste in men, she had a pretty damn good taste in beverages.

                       Stiles pushed through the door of the coffee shop with his right hand, while his left rubbed his arm absently. The stinging faded slowly, and the emissary assumed that Derek had been running through the forest and a tree limb whipped him. That's what it felt like, anyways. Thankfully the queue was short, and Stiles managed to get his coffee and sit down closer to the back of the place, where there were fewer patrons. If Derek did anything painful at least fewer people could hear Stiles' reactions from there.

                       There was only one table in ear shot, really, and it had two pretty attractive rednecks sitting at it. One with longer hair whose upper body looked taller than Stiles, and one with shorter hair who gave a flirty wink to the barista. The girl flittered away with a giggle, and Stiles couldn't help but wonder if she'd have the same reaction to him if he did that. Not that it mattered. Stiles was training to be the Hale pack emissary. He couldn't exactly get a normal date, get married, have 2.5 children and a white picket fence, could he? No. Stiles would either have to date somebody supernatural, or someone who knew about the supernatural, and even that would be complicated if they were outside of the pack.

Lydia was dating Jackson, and would probably continue to forever, if the Disney prince Kanima moment meant anything. If that wasn't true love's kiss, than Stiles didn't know what was.

Stiles would never see Allison as more than a sister. A potentially deadly, scary as hell, sister.

Scott and Kira were, at the moment, infatuated with one another, but Stiles wondered if that would last. Allison and Scott had shared more than one lingering looks towards the other lately.

Isaac was wrapped around Cora's finger, and while she acted like she couldn't care less, anybody with eyes could see how flattered she was.

Erica and Boyd were so in love that they probably kissed in the rain and hunted rabbits together, or whatever the werewolf equivalence of romance was.

Peter Hale was creepy as hell, and would never be an option.

Stiles didn't feel like he could ever touch Malia Hale without feeling like he was taking advantage of her, even if she said that she wanted to. That was a large component of their breakup. She didn't have enough life experience for him to feel comfortable.

Stiles had thought about guys before. He certainly dropped enough hints to Danny, but if the lacrosse player was really oblivious enough that he still thought that Stiles was just joking, or making fun on him or something, then he probably just didn't see Stiles that way.

                 The emissary felt a shiver run down his spine when he thought of his last conversation in this coffee shop. Lydia had been prying about Derek. Stiles sipped his coffee. He didn't want to think about the alpha- not now. Instead, he chose to eavesdrop.

                 The two rednecks were leaning towards each other, whispering. Stiles strained his ears, trying to surreptitiously read their lips from his peripheral vision. The Eiffel Tower smirked at his friend before saying, "All I'm saying is that you guys have a profound bond, Dean. Obviously you are special to him."

The flirt's eyes became sharp and his voice was deep as his threatened, "Drop it, Sammy."

Giraffe gave the flirt a small smile before typing on his computer for a few moments. A ringtone pierced through the silence, making Stiles jump a little, but thankfully neither of the men seemed to notice. "Hey Bobby, anything new to tell us?"

                Stiles strained his ears, but there was no hearing the voice on the other side. The flirt twitched his eyebrows at the barista again. She blushed before waving to him. Telephone Pole groaned into the phone, "We don't need help Bobby. If we need Garth, we'll let you know... No, we haven't looked them up yet. We're on it. Thanks Bobby." CN Tower hung up the phone before saying something to Winker, but Stiles missed it as he sipped his coffee again. The flirt's eyebrows wrinkled in confusion as he said, "Why's he so concerned about us talking to Argent?"

Saturn V frowned, "I don't know, but in a small town like this, they shouldn't be hard to find."

The flirt gave Mount Everest a sly grin as he said, "Maybe Kate and I'll bump into each other again."

Big Ben winced and groaned, "Please, I want limited details. You told me enough about her last time."

              The duo walked out after throwing some cash on their table, but Stiles found himself paralyzed in his seat for an extra moment. Holy Crap. Hunters were not what he was expecting right now. Everything had been relatively quiet, hadn't it? Well, sure, Allison mentioned that they were going to be in the area, but there wasn't actually any reason for them to come to Beacon Hills! 

 

More importantly, they were friends of Kate's.

  
In his haste to get to the pack, Stiles almost forgot to pay for his coffee.


	5. Rustling Leaves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Stiles tries to cast a protection spell on Derek and accidentally casts a spell much stronger than either of them expected, the duo has to relearn everything that they've learned about protecting the pack, because the old methods won't do anymore. With the infamous Winchesters coming to town Derek hopes that the hunters will just drive through town, but the pack has never been good that laying low.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. One day someone is going to ask me why every chapter is tree-related, and I am going to have to admit that I have no idea why. It just worked for the first couple, so now I feel obligated to try to fit it in with every other chapter. So. Yeah. That's that. 
> 
> I hope you're all enjoying this story, sorry I didn't get one up last week, I was volunteering at a camp and had no internet. Or free time. So yeah. There's that. 
> 
> More importantly, enjoy! Kudos and comment please! I love feedback :) Feel free to come and chat with me on my tumblr! 
> 
> Littleredemissary.tumblr.com

**Chapter 5: Rustling Leaves**

               Dean expected a lot of things at the Argent household, but the petite, dimpled beauty answering the door was not one of them. He felt a grin sneak onto his face, but before he could greet her, Sam gave her a polite smile as he said, "Hi, I'm Sam, this is Dean, and we are looking for Kate Argent."

              The girl's dimpled smile vanished before Dean had a chance to hit on her, leaving a wary stare in it's wake. Her back straightened and her jaw clenched before she said, "She's not here."

              Sam hesitated, glancing at his brother, but Dean wasn't nearly as polite. Instead of accepting her thinly veiled 'go away', the elder brother forced a fake smile, "Then we'll wait for her."

"You'll be waiting a long time, boys." The voice came from behind the girl, and as she opened the door wider, the Winchesters could see a man who appeared to be in his late thirties just getting down the stairs. He wore no smile, nor faked politeness, instead he continued, "She's dead."

  
              Allison sat at the top of the stairs, listening to the conversation between the new hunters and her father. He had warned her that they were coming near the area, but the pack had hoped that they wouldn't actually come this close. Somebody needed to warn Derek that the Winchesters were in town.

               The puzzle was, why were they here? The Winchesters didn't usually stop by just to check out a community for no reason- and there hadn't even been any new supernatural creature for the pack to deal with in weeks. Allison frowned, maybe the Winchesters caught news of something in Beacon Hills before them somehow.

"We're sorry to hear about Kate." One of them said, he sounded sincere. Chris had warned Allison how dangerous they were, but he didn't say anything about them being like Kate. She couldn't help be swallow a lump in her throat at the thought- the pack had been dealing with a lot of rogue hunters lately, and Allison felt rubbed raw by it.

              She knew that they were all past blaming her for everything that had happened. They had forgiven that long ago, and even after she and Scott broke up, the pack considered Allison one of their own. She felt unworthy of them, after all that she had done- after all that her family had done. At some point, Allison began to feel a hard loyalty for Derek. She didn't know when it happened, or why, but she did know that it meant that she was pack. It meant that even he had forgiven her for everything, and chose to trust her despite it all, just as she did for him.

               Regardless of her own loyalties, Allison felt just as obliged to protect her innocent pack as she did to protect the innocent humans of Beacon Hills, which meant that if a hunter abandoned the code, she had to stop them.

Allison shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. She needed to listen to this conversation- it might be important to Derek. 

"It's been years," Chris brushed off, "why are you here?" 

               There was a pause, and Allison wondered if the Winchesters were caught off-guard at her father. His voice was fairly cold, not exactly being subtle about his wish for them to leave. Eventually one of the boys answered, "Bobby called, said that there was something in this neck of the woods."

"We've got it handled." Chris said. 

"It's going after hunters." 

"We've got it handled." he repeated.

"Look, with all due respect..." 

"Chris." Her father supplied. 

"Right, with all due respect, Chris, we're just trying to make sure that everybody is safe. We'll poke around, see if we can sniff anything out, and we'll be out of your hair in no time." 

             Allison frowned. The terms 'sniff' and 'hair' would have made Stiles jump to the conclusion that they suspected werewolves, but that wasn't necessarily the case. She wouldn't rule it out though.

            Chris grunted his acquiescence, and Allison could hear him walking them to the door. It was only after their goodbyes that she walked downstairs to stand beside her father as he watched them out the window.   
 

"Sorry kiddo, this is going to be a little more complicated than we thought." he said. 

Allison nodded, "It's okay. The pack hasn't done anything wrong. Everybody has good control, so they shouldn't be able to find anything, right?" 

Chris didn't answer as he watched the '67 Impala drive down the street. 

 

* * *

 

"No really, Malia, I'm fine. I didn't even talk to them, I just overheard their conversation." Despite his insistence, Stiles let the werecoyote wrap her arms around him. Malia nestled her nose into the base of his neck, inhaling deeply as she mumbled something.

"You know I can't hear you when you speak into my neck." Stiles chastised.

Malia drew back, taking her arms with her as she glared, "You were too close, hunters are dangerous." 

Stiles was about to disagree, but Derek interrupted, "She's right. You're a druid now, that means that some hunters might target you with the pack. You need to be more careful Stiles." 

"Um, Tell me if I'm wrong, but I'm pretty sure my job is to make sure that I have enough information to help protect the pack. I can't think of a better source of information than the hunters themselves." Stiles crossed his arms in front of him as Derek leveled him with a glare. Finally Lydia rolled her eyes before declaring, "He isn't wrong. Emissaries are valued for their knowledge and their wisdom. Besides, nobody is going to suspect the sheriff's son. More importantly, let's talk about the hunters." 

             Stiles nodded before glancing at Allison. They took turns summarizing their experiences, but there was a heaviness over the room. Finally Derek's eyebrows pinched together as he said, "That isn't exactly a lot of information."   
  
Both humans looked down at their feet. They knew it too. 

Scott was the one who said, "All we have to do is lie low, right? That shouldn't be too hard. We can all control ourselves during the full moon, so it should be fine. They'll see that nobody gets killed, and they'll leave." 

              Allison frowned, turning to Derek as she said, "They are here because of all of the hunters who have died in the last while. If it's quiet, then maybe Scott's right, maybe they'll leave without hurting anyone."

"Didn't you say these were friends of Kate's?" Stiles asked, when Allison nodded, he continued, "Then I seriously doubt they're just going to sit on their thumbs and wait. It won't take long before they piece something together." 

The pack fell silent; nobody had a solution.

             It wasn't long after that that the pack began to file out, only Stiles staying behind at the loft. Derek was used to it, so he walked over to his bookcase, trying to ignore the boy as much as possible.

             It didn't take long for Stiles to start chattering. The boy had opened his laptop and after a few blessed minutes of silence he began to speak, "Okay, so the Winchesters are both officially deceased on the police database. They were at the center of a chain of hold ups that ended in massacres all over America, which isn't cool, and apparently their parents, John and Mary Winchester, are both also deceased, but seeing as how Dean and Sam are both here, they are probably not deceased unless they are actually hunter-ghosts, somehow, which, wow, not cool. The important thing to remember is that they probably aren't hunter-ghosts, because, while we haven't actually met ghosts yet, I'd like to think that they are at least a little bit transparent, and seeing as how both the rednecks I saw yesterday seemed to lack transparency, they hopefully aren't."

              Derek let Stiles' voice wash over him, but he was more focused on the book in his hands. It was a book that listed details of famous hunting families. Winchester wasn't in it, but maybe the hunting side of the family came from their mother? It wouldn't be the first time, although usually the women who came from hunter families kept their last names after marriage. Derek was still turning over the thoughts in his head when Stiles realized that he wasn't listening to him.

Crossing the room quickly, Stiles was indignant as he whined, "Dude, listen to me for once!" 

              Without thinking, the human drew his arm back before punching the werewolf in the arm hard. Unfortunately, while it caught Derek's attention, pain seared through Stiles' own arm, and he quickly gasped before grabbing his arm. Before Stiles could even register it the alpha lead the boy to the couch to sit him down. Derek's eyes were glowing red as he growled, "What do you think you're doing, you idiot. You're supposed to be intelligent, what made you think that punching me was a good idea right now?!"

"I didn't think it through obviously." Stiles complained. How was this his life? Well, at least he knew that he could punch hard. Derek was sitting beside him on the couch with one arm still around the boy's back from when he directed him to the couch. He seemed to have forgotten about it, but Stiles most definitely did not. He didn't realize that Derek was draining his pain until he saw the black veins running up Derek's hand from where it rested on his forearm. Eventually the pain stopped, and so did Derek's mystical werewolf pain-vortex veins or whatever.

               The emissary-in-training couldn't help but lean into the wolf a little. He chose to blame it on pack dynamics. Who wouldn't feel comfort in a close proximity with their alpha, right? Right. Derek wasn't pushing him away, but that was probably some protective alpha bullshit or something. Wolves were tactile creatures after all, and it wasn't Stiles' fault that he was too. 

                 When Stiles blinked his eyes back into focus, he could feel the grogginess upon him. What time was it? He glanced up to see Derek watching him without expression. The wolf was warm, and despite knowing how weird this was, Stiles couldn't convince himself to get off of him. Derek's legs were splayed on the couch underneath him, and Stiles was seated between his legs as his body leaned heavily on the wolf's chest.

To say it was a position that Stiles never expected to find himself in, was an understatement. 

              His first instinct was to throw himself off of the couch, but when he jerked up a little, Derek's hand that was now splayed across his chest flexed briefly. Stiles froze, considering his options. He could lay back down and pretend it wasn't weird, he could make an excuse and leave, he could make an excuse and get up and try to ignore the awkwardness while talking about pack stuff, or he could just run and never look back.

              After a long moment of arguing with himself, Stiles eyed Derek as he carefully lowered himself back down onto the wolf's chest. Derek didn't so much as blink. After he was comfortably laying down again, Stiles tried to focus on Derek's pulse. He had to slow down his own heart rate because he knew that Derek could hear it loud and clear, and right now it was all over the place.

Derek interrupted his thoughts with a voice softer than Stiles had heard it in a long time, "Did you look up their mother's last name?" 

"Huh?" Stiles craned his neck to see Derek, but after a moment he decided that laying his head on the alpha's chest was significantly more comfortable, so he dropped it down again. Despite no longer seeing Derek's face, Stiles sensed the eye roll as the wolf reiterated, "Did. You. Look up. Their mother's last name?" 

"I didn't look it up, but it was on the documents. It was like that canned soup, Campbell or something." Stiles never thought that Derek would be comfortable, well, he'd never thought about it period, of course, but he would never have thought that the muscular alpha would have been comfortable. He was wrong. Derek might possibly be more comfortable than Stiles' bed, which was a revelation in and of itself. 

The alpha made a small hum as he reached for the coffee table beside the duo, when he brought the book back, he held it in front of Stiles so that they could both read it. 

"Wait- what is this?" Stiles voiced, obviously surprised. When Derek didn't answer, the emissary demanded, "Is this what I think it is? Is this a book of documented hunters in America?" 

Derek grunted before clarifying, "Only the prestigious families, and it isn't limited to America. It's North American. Other continents are in the shelf." 

He waved his hand towards the bookshelf, and Stiles turned his face to stare at the shelf in question. The boy made a desperate sound in the back of his throat that had Derek willing himself to not react to; he asked, "What?" 

"Your books," Stiles swallowed hard before continuing, "They are actually really interesting. I thought that they were just going to be- I don't know- Old Man and the Sea, or something just as dry." 

Derek flipped the page of his book as he said, "I used to own some of Hemingway's works, but they were lost. All of the books here are copies that my family had in some of their other houses." 

"Other... houses?" Stiles tried to crane his neck around again, and this time he managed to catch a glimpse of a small smile- as in an actual smile devoid of any sarcasm- as Derek said, "Yes. We have a few summer homes around the country. The pack utilized them when things went a little bit south here in Beacon Hills. Sometimes when pups struggled to learn control their parents would go spend the summer at one of the secluded summer homes and they could learn in a bigger place where nobody knew them in case something suspicious happened."

Stiles was gaping. He knew that, but he couldn't stop. 

 

           Not only was the the longest thing that he had ever heard Derek say, but it was also about a subject that he had never heard Derek talk about. The alpha's life before the fire was a giant mystery, and while Stiles obviously knew that Derek had a life before the fire, he knew nothing about it. 

To see Derek with an actual smile, talking about actual memories, while reading an actual book, actually bonding with Stiles, and actually cuddling-

Wait.

            Stiles looked back down at the arm across his chest, and the book in front of him. He wriggled a little, but not too much, he didn't want anybody to get themselves into any awkward situations here, if he could help it. They were cuddling. Derek was cuddling him. There was cuddling happening right now. He was being cuddled by the big bad wolf. 

And he kind of liked it.

            He felt safe. Derek's powerful limbs wrapped around him as the heat of the wolf's body warmed his back. Stiles could sense how in tuned Derek was right now. The wolf could hear how his heart-rate picked up as he thought, and Derek's thumb began gently ghosting back and forth on the center of his chest. 

He had never felt safer than he did right then. 

God damn it, Stiles Stilinski felt safe with Derek Hale. 

He trusted Derek. 

And Derek trusted him. 

 

Derek.

Hale.

Trusted.

Him. 

 

It shouldn't come as a shock. They were pack, which meant family, which meant that nobody got left behind. Except maybe Peter. And potentially Derek, when Laura left him in New York to come to Beacon Hills. And Cora that one time, but in Derek and Laura's defence, they had no idea that she had survived.

The bottom line was that Derek and Stiles had a mutual respect going on. They respected each other's intelligence and decisions, even if it took awhile for them to reach this point. That probably shouldn't be some big revelation considering the fact that Stiles was training to be his emissary, but Stiles hadn't put much thought into it before.

They actually trusted each other now, like, mutual trusting going on in their relationship. 

And cuddling apparently. 

            Stiles couldn't exactly say that it was mutual cuddling, because Derek was definitely the one holding him, and Stiles wasn't exactly in a position to cuddle back, but he was 100% on board with this. He wasn't going anywhere.

Respect. Trust. And Cuddling.

           With that in the back of his mind, Stiles decided that he needed to stop thinking about this, because otherwise he might realize something that could destroy the pack, and there was no way that he was going to become emissary just to screw everything up.

 


	6. Breeze on Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Stiles tries to cast a protection spell on Derek and accidentally casts a spell much stronger than either of them expected, the duo has to relearn everything that they've learned about protecting the pack, because the old methods won't do anymore. With the infamous Winchesters coming to town Derek hopes that the hunters will just drive through town, but the pack has never been good that laying low.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am really sorry that A. I took so long getting this out and B. It's so short. I just really wanted to post SOMETHING because I felt horrible for how long I've made you guys wait so far. Life has been crazy. Good news though, I am hopefully going to have a BETA soon!! :D Exciting stuff guys. Anyways, without further Adieu...

**Chapter 6: Breeze on Out**

               The thing about summer vacation is, usually Stiles got bored of not being in school by the third week. With a pack of werewolves around, however, Stiles found himself significantly less bored.

                After his cuddle session with Derek on Sunday, Stiles went home and panicked for awhile before finally falling asleep late into the night. Monday Stiles found himself dragged out with Jackson, Danny, Scott, and Kira to practice lacrosse; they claimed it was to help Kira practice, but he was pretty confident that they were all trying to keep him in shape. 

              Tuesday found him carrying shopping bags and listening to Lydia, Allison, Erica, Kira, and Cora try to shop for Malia. Lydia announced that it was a girls' day, but apparently that didn't exempt Stiles from the experience. Cora looked almost as bored as Stiles was, but at least he got to chat with her while they sat on one of the benches by the changerooms for awhile. 

Well, "chat" is a strong term. He mostly talked at her until she told him that she'd rip out his throat if she heard it make another sound. 

               Wednesday was apparently a beach day, so the pack all piled into various vehicles and drove a few hours to the beach. Stiles practically threw himself into Scott's car when he saw that Scott and Derek's were the only ones that weren't full yet. They played beach volleyball, which had Stiles at a serious disadvantage. Apparently none of the wolves understood what "no powers" meant.

              Thursday Boyd and Isaac came over and Stiles played CoD with them until the trio fell asleep. Boyd was gone when Stiles woke up at 4 A.M. but Isaac apparently decided to overtake Stiles' bed instead. Shaking his head softly, Stlies frowned at the boy. It wasn't like he was going to kick him out though, so instead Stiles pushed him over and rolled into bed beside him.

Isaac didn't even make it awkward in the morning, which gave Stiles a whole new respect for his packmate. 

Packmate. Stiles grinned to himself as he thought it. He still wasn't exactly used to the idea that he was actually pack now, or that Derek thought that he had been the whole time. Awesome. 

              Friday was when his week became less than awesome, because not only did Laurie, one of the deputies at the station, tell him that his dad brought in a hamburger ten minutes ago, but when Stiles rounded the corner to his dad's office there were two very memorable rednecks in his office. 

               Before he could think of a rational response, Stiles all but ran into the room, slamming open the door before lunging at his father's desk. Both hunters' hands flew to their belts, obviously used to carrying guns on them, and his father jumped a little before his eyes widened comically. 

The boy grabbed the half eaten burger on his desk before his father had a chance to stop him. The sheriff groaned, "Stiles, I'm in a meeting, if you haven't noticed." 

"Hmmm." Stiles began, "This doesn't look like a veggie burger, father dear." 

"I'm a grown ass man, Stiles, I can eat what I want." The sheriff probably meant for his sentence to come out more authoritative and less of a whine, but alas. 

"You can eat what you want when you want to be healthy." Stiles glared at his father before dropping his burger in the garbage. His dad flinched a little when it hit the garbage with a soft thump. Grinning, Stiles plunked a bag on his father's desk. The sheriff groaned. 

Both hunters were watching, hiding their grins behind their hands as Stiles announced, "Mashed yams, broccoli, green salad, and a veggie burger, for you, father mine." 

"You're going to be the death of me." he groaned. 

Stiles grinned at his father before sitting on the corner of his desk, "That is actually the polar opposite effect of healthy food." 

Stiles continued to grin at his father until the sheriff took a large, unhappy bite of his burger. Only then did he turn to the hunters and, determined to sound cheerful, ask, "So what's the meeting about?" 

             Stiles could see his father flailing as he tried not to choke on his burger, desperate to step in a tell Stiles that it was confidential, no doubt. The hunters, however, gave his father an odd look before the taller one said, "We were sent to investigate the so-called cougar attacks."

"The cougar attacks? So, what, you're some kind of glorified wildlife ranger?" Stiles snarked. 

The shorter hunter retorted, "We're F.B.I." 

"Can I see your badges?" Stiles asked, his voice flat. The sheriff, who had managed to swallow, was shaking his head, trying to assure the 'F.B.I' that it was unnecessary, but both men pulled their badges out, handing them to Stiles. 

Stiles rose his brows at the duo as soon as he glanced at the badges before glancing back down. He shook his head slightly before tossing the badges on his father's desk, announcing, "You're agents Stark and Banner? Seriously? That's what you're going with?" 

The pair looked at each other, but before they could react, Stiles interrupted, "These are obviously fake. Besides, there's nothing to investigate. We have a cougar problem, that's it."

"The F.B.I," The tall one emphasized, "is worried that they might actually be murders." 

"What kind of murderers leave animal marks in their victims?" Stiles made a face at the hunters. Idiots needed a better cover, they were way to obvious.

"Maybe you could help us with that, if you know the case so well." The short one said, eyeing Stiles dangerously. 

Stiles glared at the hunters before hissing, "I know that the two of you aren't F.B.I. I know you definitely aren't any kind of heroes, and I know that you are welcome to get out of Beacon Hills."

Both hunters stared at Stiles with a heavy weight in the air. Finally they both glanced, in turn, towards the Sheriff. Stiles' father gave a long look to each of the people in his office before he nodded to the door and, with his 'you're grounded' voice, announced, "You heard the boy." 

Stiles swallowed hard, but the hunters simply stood, giving Stiles and his father each one last glance before walking out. 

The sheriff turned to Stiles, "Hunters, I take it?"

Stiles nodded, and then the sheriff paused before asking, "Do you think they'll leave?" 

"Not a chance." Stiles groaned, flopping into one of the chairs that the hunters abandoned. 


	7. Uprooted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Stiles tries to cast a protection spell on Derek and accidentally casts a spell much stronger than either of them expected, the duo has to relearn everything that they've learned about protecting the pack, because the old methods won't do anymore. With the infamous Winchesters coming to town Derek hopes that the hunters will just drive through town, but the pack has never been good that laying low.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey.  
> Hey, listen!
> 
> No, but actually, you guys should read this for a minute-super important and stuff.
> 
> First off, I am sorry that this chapter took so long, but it's SO WORTH THE WAIT because... drum roll please.... 
> 
> I HAVE A BETA NOW!  
> And a beta has me now?  
> ...  
> We have each other now. As betas. 
> 
> Anyways, the point is that Tamz did an amazing job editing this for me, and she went through and noted what needed to be highlighted, what needed to be expanded on, and what made absolutely no sense at all! I am also being her beta for a story that will be coming soon that is absolutely AMAZING, so you should probably all keep an eye on her AO3, which I will have below, because believe me. I've read like 9k of it. 10/10, will read again when she publishes it.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy this chapter because we both put a lot of work into it (Did I mention that she helped me knit all of the stray thoughts back together? Because she's a gem.)

And if you want to check out my LittleRedBestie (which you totes should):

TamzStripped:

[Her AO3](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TamzStripped/pseuds/TamzStripped)

[Her personal tumblr](http://tamzstripped.tumblr.com/)

[Her Sterek tumblr](http://littleredsterek.tumblr.com/)

 

**Chapter 7: Uprooted**

              The plan was to tell Derek about the awkward hunter experience immediately, however, things rarely work out as Stiles planned, see example A: Looking for a body in the woods. See example B: Admitting himself to Eichen House in an attempt to stop the Nogitsune. See example C: Telling the pack about his run-in with the hunters.

              After Stiles went home from the Sheriff's station, he peeled off his clothes, threw them on the floor and immediately showered. He figured that his clothes would still smell enough like the hunters for the pack to scent, after all it was good to know where the enemy's hideout was, plus wearing them made him feel kind of grimy.

              Stiles researched about the hunters until just before his dad came home, and then made dinner. After eating, he prepared for pack night. Stiles used to call pack meetings every week or two, but at some point it became too tedious and he just labeled every second Friday "pack night" so that they could talk about anything that was weird, but not panic inducing (Okay, and maybe so that they could bond a little bit, but the pack needed it, okay?). Now official pack meetings were only called when there was an emergency.

             The thing about pack night, was that it was kind of awesome. Sometimes it involved playfighting, other nights everyone picked a movie and watched it, and every once in awhile they played board games until the competition got to everybody's heads a bit. Stiles always aimed to be a little bit early on Fridays in an attempt to beat the pack, usually he and Derek would watch T.V. or talk about creatures of the night, but tonight part of him kind of hoped for something similar to the cuddle session on Sunday.

              Tossing his hunter-scented clothes from earlier into his backpack, he set off to the Hale house. The moment he walked into the house, he yelled, "I know that you can hear me, the least that you could do is-" Stiles froze when he rounded the corner into the living room.

                 Derek was standing, his arms supporting Erica as she wrapped her legs around his waist. She was wearing a tank top that was pulling up a little as she leaned tightly into Derek, exposing a little bit of her back as the couple locked lips.

               A sudden tension curled in Stiles' gut so fast that a small sound escaped him, making the couple freeze before quickly drawing away from each other and turning their heads towards him. Panicking, Stiles looked away. There was a zero percent chance that he was going to discuss this with them.

"Oh...kay, obviously you two are, y'know," Stiles could feel the tension in his muscles, usually he would flail them a little, but he felt like his arms were pinned still, "Um, I'm just going to-" He gestured back towards the door as he spun on his heel, suddenly he didn't really want to talk to anybody.

             There were harsh whispers behind him, but the human of the company obviously didn't have super hearing, so he just left as quickly as possible, feeling more and more stupid with each step that he took.

             It wasn't any of his business if Erica and Derek had a thing going on- in fact, Stiles wasn't even sure why he cared. It's not like he's the only one in the pack that Derek gets along with, Stiles reasoned with himself. Derek talked to a lot of the pack now, a quiet part of Stiles just kind of thought that he was more real with Stiles than the others. God, Stiles felt so stupid, Derek was just paying special attention to him because of the spell, it was his own fault that he got himself into this mess.

And what was this mess, exactly?

Stiles wasn't exactly sure.

           His chest felt kind of heavy, like it was going to collapse in on itself, and his lungs felt constricted in his chest- not enough room, not enough breath. He wasn't having a panic attack, he only really got those over his father now, but he definitely wasn't comfortable.

            Stiles took a moment to think about Boyd. Erica and Boyd had always been together; he couldn't remember a first date, and the couple never sat the pack down to tell them that they were together. They had just always been together, or at least, it felt like it. Stiles pictured Erica's legs wrapped around Derek's waist again as he grumbled, "Well not anymore, I guess."

            He hiked aimlessly for a long time, lost in his thoughts and the pressure in his chest. It took a long while for him to realize that something was wrong. Stiles stopped for a moment, looking around.

Well crap, Stiles thought as he glanced around the unfamiliar forest, I should've just jumped into the jeep.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, considered calling Scott to come out and find him, but naturally he had no service- of course not, that would be too easy, Stiles glared at his feet as he shoved his phone back into his pocket.

The good news about being lost in the reserve, is that it wasn't _that_ big, and if he just kept walking, chances are he'd be able to find his way out. Stiles felt like he spent enough time out here, anyway.

              He glanced upwards, he had gotten home from the confrontation with the hunters at two, it was probably around nine o'clock now. He had a little bit of time to find his way out, and then a little while longer to figure himself out- after all, it wasn't very often that Stiles forgot about his jeep.

Stiles dwelled on that for a moment. He forgot that he drove his jeep to Derek's- in fact, he didn't even consider his jeep. All he knew was that he had to get away from Erica and Derek.

                For a moment Stiles couldn't help but wonder if this feeling was jealousy. No, he reasoned, that couldn't be right. He felt jealous over Lydia lots of times when he was in high school and it never felt like this- but that was different, he supposed. The thing about Lydia Martin is that she didn't give him any kind of false hope- she was clear from the moment she met him that it was _never_ going to happen.

                Derek, however, talked to him more than the others. He seemed to be different with Stiles, and he was more careful with him.  
Well, Stiles thought wryly, you are a human pack member, his emissary, and right now connected to him with a curse from the druid Gods, what were you expecting?

                For a guy who always considered himself kind of intelligent, Stiles felt pretty stupid. Cora does always remind me that I'm an idiot, he thought as he shook his head to himself.

              To be fair, when Stiles remembered the cuddling thing, it didn't quite seem like a completely platonic experience, but hey, maybe werewolves were particularly tactile or something- obviously he wasn't as much of an expert as he thought.

Stiles almost stopped in his tracks when he came to the final conclusion that he did, in fact, feel jealous.

He felt jealous of Erica, because she was kissing Derek.

Stiles was probably at least a little bit not straight. What was it that girl Caitlin called it?

Bi. Stiles Stilinski is bisexual.

He is also, Stiles realized, bisexual for his _alpha, Derek Hale_.

How is this his life?

              He came to this realization just as he emerged from the trees, stumbling across the ditch to the edge of one of the highways towards Beacon Hills. Vowing to sit down and figure out his sexual orientation later, Stiles quickly drew out his phone and checked for service,wincing at the brightness.

One out of five bars.

Well, at least he could send a text. 

He did, firing one off to Scott, asking him to come and pick him up on the side of the highway. "Until then," Stiles announced to himself, "I guess I'll get walking." 

Sighing, Stiles shifted his backpack before he turned right and started to walk down the highway- it might be a long walk into town.

           It only took a few minutes of walking, and some unidentified snaps and cracks from the darkness of the forest for Stiles to start imagining worst-case scenarios.  
The thing about Beacon Hills, Stiles mused, is that he never knew what was more terrifying- the idea of being alone with one of the residents, or alone in the middle of nowhere at night. The emissary didn't know how many people in Beacon Hills were supernatural, but with the Nemeton in the reserve, Stiles didn't exactly feel safe outside either.

             Stiles had heard enough of the sheriff's warnings of hitch hiking to know that it wasn't a great idea, but if the alternative was waiting for Scott to check his phone, Stiles might never make it back into town- after all, Scott hung up on him once while he was in a pool with Derek trying to wait-out the Kanima (To be fair, Scott showed up in time, but the important thing to learn is that Scott's bad with phones).

Thankfully, it seemed, Stiles might not have to wait too long after all.

             Headlights beamed past Stiles, and he briefly argued with himself once more, until another stick snapped in the forest. Sticking out a thumb quickly, Stiles turned to face the vehicle, hoping that it was someone distinctly not evil. He watched as the headlights slowed and the car pulled over beside him with the passenger window open.

             It was a flashy car- a little bit too flashy, Stiles realized, just as his vision readjusted to the darkness. From the passenger seat, one of the hunters smirked at him- the tall one with the mane.

As if his day wasn't going poorly enough.

                He didn't even consider playing it cool. Stiles' first reaction was to turn and run straight back into the woods, hoping that the wolves would find him before the hunters. His heart sank as he heard a door open and close shortly after him.

                Stiles could hear the hunter's footsteps closing in on him. It was pretty obvious which of the two chased after supernatural creatures for a living. As the realization that there was a very small chance of getting away, Stiles slid his bag off of his shoulder and threw it behind him into the darkness. He couldn't help but grin a little as the hunter cursed behind him, but unfortunately it didn't sound like he tripped over it.

Sure enough, it wasn't seconds later before a heavy weight slammed into Stiles' waist, bringing him to the forest floor so easily that it was embarrassing.

 

* * *

 

The moment that Stiles turned away, Derek all but threw his beta away from him, hissing, "What are you _doing_?"

"I'm just trying to," Erica, who was barely able to get her feet under her, gestured between him and the door, "Speed things up! You guys have been dancing around each other for years!"

"Stay out of it." The alpha narrowed his eyes a little more at the girl, letting alpha red bleed into his irises.

Erica deflated a little, pouting at him as she whispered, "Well the damage has been done, go after him!"

Derek shook his head, "You made a move on me, _you_ go after him!"

"Why would I go after him, Derek?" Erica sighed, managing to make it sound like Derek was the one who had already ruined pack-night.

"You did this. Fix it."

"I. Can't."

"Fix it."

"Derek," Erica crossed her arms in front of her as she spoke, "I can't fix this because it's not my comfort that he wants. He wants yours."

               Derek shook his head, Stiles wanted a pack, not him. Not like how Derek wanted him. Derek had started to want him somewhere between Jennifer and the Nogitsune, while Stiles continued to proclaim his love for Lydia from the rooftops and announce his relationship milestones with Malia.

Stiles just didn't want to be lonely while his friends all joined the pack. Derek understood loneliness, he was well acquainted with it.

               He couldn't help but think back to earlier in the week, holding Stiles in his arms as they lay on the couch. He shouldn't have done that. As the alpha, Derek knew that he had to be more careful about not pressuring Stiles into anything. He remembered the brief tightening of his hand when Stiles moved to get up and a heaviness set in his gut for a moment.

He felt guilty at the time, but when Stiles settled back in, Derek told himself that the emissary changed his mind and wanted to lay there after all.

              Derek wanted to make excuses. He wanted to tell Stiles that he needed to hold him, and that the idea of Stiles getting hurt because of Derek- hell, maybe even going crazy because of Derek, was too much. Stiles had already been through hell and back because of the pack; Derek was toxic.

But in the end, excuses were excuses, and all that Derek could do was admit that when Stiles was hurting he wanted to hold the smart, sarcastic, spaz.

            Erica watched him as his mind raced, but then she finally snapped, "Are you blind?! Your approval is always the first thing that he looks for when he shares an opinion! He sits beside you during movies, stays behind to bond with you, doing _who knows what_ , and he is constantly trying to be alone with you."  
Derek opened his mouth to deny it, but then a sound rumbled in the distance momentarily distracting him. After a few moments Erica also paused, tilting her head to listen to the vehicle as it came closer.

            It didn't take long before Jackson and Lydia walked in, he had his hands shoved in his pockets, still pretending that he didn't want to be there, Derek noted, while Lydia walked in with a toss of her hair and a click of her heels. The banshee practically owned a room every time that she walked into it.  
Jackson sneered at Erica and Derek before turning to Lydia, "Told you we should have waited until more of them got here."

"Then go sulk in your Porche, Jackson." She dismissed, already walking past the werewolves and into the kitchen as she announced, "It's customary to have drinks prepared for visitors, Derek."

               After that the conversation was obviously put on hold, and it didn't take long for Malia, Kira, and Scott to show up. Malia and Kira immediately sought out Lydia so that they could make plans for something, Derek swallowed hard before forcing himself to focus on his pack- well, most of his pack. Scott followed Kira into the kitchen, but veered to the left to get some drinks.

               Allison and Boyd showed up sometime after that; Boyd bee-lined straight for Erica, while Allison walked over to talk with the majority of the girls who were beginning to form their own little sub-pack off in the corner of the living room. Peter, who appeared at some point when Derek was paying attention to his pack, and Jackson were both standing by the T.V. talking about sports. Derek watched Boyd and Erica; the couple was standing away from the rest of the pack as they whispered to one another.

The pack gave them privacy by talking loudly amongst each other.

Derek did not.

Instead of talking with the pack, he leaned against a corner of the couch, pretending to be taking it all in. Instead, he listened to his two betas.

"What did you do?" Boyd asked, calm as always.

Erica scoffed, "Why do you always think I did something?"

"Because you always do."

There was a long moment of silence, as if they were trying to stare into each other's eyes until they got a read on each other. Finally Erica admitted, "I might have pushed them a little."

               Derek didn't have to wonder who 'they' were, and by the long silence following, he doubted that Boyd did either. After the pause, Erica continued, "They have been crushing on each other for years, Boyd. I just want them to be happy!"

Boyd made a small hum, which was about the time when Derek got distracted by Cora and Isaac coming in.

                 Instead of interrupting Erica and Boyd, Isaac went over to where the girls and Scott were gathered, while Cora paused before glancing around. Finally she strode up to Derek with her brow furrowed as she loudly asked, "Where's Stilinski? His jeep implies that he was once again probably the first one here."

Every conversation in the room stopped so abruptly that Derek's head spun at all of the attention for a moment.

When his thoughts finally caught up with him, Derek coughed into his fist before glancing to Erica briefly, and then mumbling, "He left."

The whole pack seemed to turn to stare at their alpha in unison, and Cora asked, "Without his jeep?"

"His jeep?" Erica butted in, her voice was higher than usual. Tense.

"Yeah, you know, that baby blue piece of crap in the yard?" said Cora, gesturing to the window. The pack turned to stare through the window, where, from Derek's position, he could see the old blue jeep. After a few seconds, Derek realized that he was slowly shaking his head back and forth, Scott was the one who responded though, his voice sounded distant, "If he didn't take his jeep, then how'd he get back home?" 

Derek could barely hear his own rough voice above the buzzing in his mind as he realized, "He didn't."


	8. Sustain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Stiles tries to cast a protection spell on Derek and accidentally casts a spell much stronger than either of them expected, the duo has to relearn everything that they've learned about protecting the pack, because the old methods won't do anymore. With the infamous Winchesters coming to town Derek hopes that the hunters will just drive through town, but the pack has never been good that laying low.

**Notes at the END of the Chapter, but they do have spoilers (I think? Maybe not. Idek) But BEWARE :o**

**I hope you all enjoy! :)**

 

**Chapter 8: Sustain**

Stiles was unhappy, to say the least.

            He was unhappy because he let himself get kidnapped by hunters. He was unhappy because his pack and his dad probably had no idea that anything was wrong. Most of all, he was unhappy because it didn't take the hunters very long to get sick of hearing his voice.

That's right.

They gagged him, and apparently that wasn't enough because they duct taped his mouth.

            Stiles had tried to make as many annoying and indignant sounds in his throat as possible, but it just wasn't the same. Besides, it wasn't exactly comfortable in his current predicament- he kept using up too much oxygen and getting light headed, eventually he gave up and tried to eavesdrop instead.

            The flirty hunter was driving, always keeping one eye on Stiles in the backseat because apparently he  had trust issues that rivaled Derek's. The tall hunter, who had had the audacity to _tackle_ him, was sitting in the passenger seat. But seriously? If Stiles wanted to be full-body tackled, he'd of joined the football team instead of lacrosse.

He tried his best to send a scathing glare at Giraffe, but Stiles was no Derek, and he wasn't quite as terrifying as any of the wolves.

            His arms were handcuffed behind his back. Stiles wished that having his dad as the sheriff would have prepared him for things like this, but honestly, the cuffs were too tight to get off without scraping a significant amount of flesh off of his wrists and hands. He was able to get himself a little bit of room when he tensed his hands into fists as they cuffed them, but it wasn't enough to help much at this point.

            The driver turned up the radio with a wary eye on Stiles. What did he think he was going to do? Open the door and somersault out of the car? Wait- Stiles glanced out the window- nope. They were going much too fast for that to be anything but fatal.

            The tall hunter turned the radio back down, giving his partner a significant look before sarcastically asking, "What are we going to do with him, Dean? Cuff him to one of the beds in our hotel until his friends come for him?"

 _Oooh, Kinky._ Stiles waggled his eyebrows as he tried to voice his sarcasm, but it only came out as more hums.

           The driver, Dean, scowled at his partner, ignoring Stiles altogether, "We're _going_ to set a trap for them, and then send 'em all six feet under."

Oh no. Nope. That didn't sound like a good idea at all. Stiles tried to reason with them, but once again, he was stopped by the duct tape.

            Dean gritted his teeth, glaring at Stiles before turning his scowl to the tall hunter, "I don't know what's more annoying- this, or having to hear what he's saying."

"Mmmmmfff!"

            The tall hunter finally turned to give Stiles a pointed look, his jaw tense, and then reached forward and ripped the tape off.  Stiles didn't even have time to try to stop the pained yelp that he let out as his mouth was freed- well, freed-ish.

The hunter left the gag, but Stiles could deal with that.

"Ih should probabwy be no-ded dat I'm naw exac-cy fwiensh with dem." Stiles slurred.

The hunters, it seemed, didn't buy it.

            The tall one rose an eyebrow at him, which reminded Stiles a little of Derek. God, he missed Derek. The hunter, oblivious to his thoughts, said, "Stiles Stilinski, traditional Polish first name, that you choose not to go by. Son of the deceased Claudia Stilinski, and the current Sheriff of Beacon Hills, John Stilinski."

Stiles bit down on the gag hard.

            The man's voice was detached, clinical, and it brought back memories of how the doctor's had spoken about his mother.  The hunter didn't stop, "Played lacrosse for the Beacon Hills High School team, now attends Berkeley University. Most often seen with Scott McCall, Lydia Martin, and Malia Hale." He paused to mention, "Now, it wasn't very hard to look into your little group of friends after that."

            The hunter continued, "You admitted yourself to Eichen House three years ago, and have a reputation for being caught at the scene of multiple crimes, including, but not limited to: the shooting at the sheriff's station four years ago, a string of murders in a club called The Jungle, that same year, and a murder at a swimming pool the next year. In conclusion, trouble follows your more than the average person. In our experience, that implies that you are not normal."

Stiles choked out a sarcastic laugh before defending himself, "Awe you kidding me?! Who awe you guysh? Wha makesh you shink-"

            The hunter finally reached back and cut the gag with a pocket knife, apparently too annoyed by Stiles' slurred words. The first thing Stiles did when they removed the gag was gasp, " _Finally_! Have you actually ever been gagged? What's wrong with you two sociopaths?!"

            Dean, apparently still paranoid, seemed to be watching Stiles more than the road now. Great, Stiles thought to himself, caught by hunters just to be killed in a car crash.

Thankfully, the car didn't crash.

            Instead, the hunter pulled down a short dirt road that lead to an abandoned building that would be perfect for, say, a murder. Naturally, Stiles flipped. He wrenched at his arms, desperate to get out of the cuffs, and he spun on the seat and kicked out with his feet. He barely had enough time to land a second hit on the window when the tall hunter got his gun pointed at Stiles.

            Unfortunately, Stiles didn't have super-strength like  most of his peers, or else he might've been able to smash the window in a hit or two. The other hunter, Dean, laughed as he parked and then opened the driver's door, "Sorry kid, you're not gonna break those cuffs."

"Break them?" Stiles asked.

"Yeah." The hunter sneered as he said, "I know you're used to brute force and all, but those ones are silver. A little thing we bought, just in case we met another one of you monsters."

They thought he was a werewolf.

Not even a real werewolf.

            These clowns thought that Stiles was a howl-at-the-moon, footprint-drinking, silver-weakened werewolf. How was this his life? One of the first things that Derek told Stiles about werewolves was that silver didn't harm them, which meant that these hunters had no idea what they were talking about. Hell, they probably weren't even real hunters and they managed to kidnap him. Just thinking about it made Stiles blurt out a short hysterical laugh, which made the hunters exchange glances with each other.

"You guys are psychotic. I can't believe that this is happening right now." Stiles' voice sounded wrong. Too breathy, almost like he was on the edge of a panic attack, and maybe he was. Because hunters? Hunters could just check and see if he was a werewolf. They could cut him and watch it not heal or shock him a little and see that his eyes don't light up like a Christmas tree. Crazies? Crazies weren't predictable. Crazies could do anything. Crazies were arsonists who set fire to homes full of innocent people.

            The hunters managed to get him out of the muscle car. They hauled him to the building by the arm with a barrel against his back; Stiles' posture had never looked so proper. Suddenly Stiles remembered the articles that he read on the internet about them, apparently they were wanted all over the states a few years ago for shootings all over the country- until tonight they had seemed like any other hunters who had abandoned the code, but Stiles had forgotten about their history somehow.

Sure, it had been a scary thing to read, but he brushed it off, thinking that all of the victims were something supernatural- putting Stiles himself pretty much out of danger.

Maybe that wasn't the case.

 

            The duo sat him down on a chair inside with his arms cuffed behind it. The room was unfurnished, with a couple beer cans littering the corners of the room, probably from some high school kids. Stiles swallowed hard, there was no way that the pack would be able to find him so far out of town; the pack would have had a chance if he walked there, but they'd lose his scent at the highway where he was taken in the car. There weren't really any clues that would lead his dad out to what looked like the outskirts of town either.

The hunter named Dean asked the first question, "How many of your friends are like you, kid?"

            Stiles tried to let out a laugh, but it sounded a little bit like a sob as he tried to sound more confident than he felt, "Really? You're going to interrogate me? Original.”

The hunter's expression darkened as he leaned forward to repeat his question.

Stiles scoffed, “A virgin? None."

The tall hunter blinked, obviously caught off guard, "What?"

The shorter hunter squinted at him in disbelief as he asked incredulously, "Seriously? Dude, your file said that you were like, twenty."

            Stiles could feel the heat rise to his cheeks as he said, "Well maybe I was saving myself for the next virgin-sacrificing serial killer."

"We're not- this isn't-" The skyscraper glanced at his partner, looking a little distressed. Dean crouched in front of Stiles, "Look kid-"

"Why are you calling me 'kid'? Is this about the virginity thing, because I'll have you know that I could get laid if I wanted to, I've just been a little bit distracted lately."  Stiles interrupted, stalling.

"No, this isn't-" Dean began, but Stiles interrupted again, "Screw off."

            The hunter stared at him, but Stiles met his eyes defiantly, and eventually the tall one came to stand beside his partner, "Stiles we just want to make sure that Beacon Hills is safe for everybody."

"Then stop killing people."

"We're only killing them to stop them from killing people."

"I have met more human murderers," Stiles sneered, "than supernatural ones."

"Okay, well how about we just have a chat with the rest of your friends and see how dangerous they are." Dean interrupted, the threat clear in his voice.

Stiles laughed out loud, he was becoming less afraid of these hunters by the minute, "What are you going to do, _shoot them with your silver bullets_?"

            The hunters exchanged a glance, and Stiles basked in confidence as he saw their confused expressions. The skyscraper's voice sounded curious, "Your friends have to be werewolves too, what we don't know is why you guys haven't eaten your victims' hearts."

If Stiles could manage another laugh, he would have. Instead, his voice sounded kind of hoarse as he asked, "What _victims_? Dude, I can't even handle blood. I passed out when Scott got his tattoo."

"Werewolves." The tall one said. He sounded kind of concerned, "They eat the hearts of their victims."

"Oh my god!" Stiles yelled, "Are you screwing with me right now? Is this some kind of prank? Because let me tell you, that is not funny, nor believable. Nobody has been ripping out any hearts, or killing anybody for that matter! God, what is it with you hunters? Don't _any_ of you follow the code?"

"Code?" The hunters both asked in unison, but Stiles didn't have a chance to explain himself, because he blinked his dry eyes, and when he opened them, he yelped and nearly knocked his chair over.

There was a dude there.

A kind of old dude.

Like, probably 35.

            The man was wearing a rumpled beige trench coat, a white dress shirt, and a backwards blue tie. He was also, for some reason, squinting at Stiles, but what really surprised Stiles (aside from his sudden appearance) was his voice.

The man's voice was exceptionally deep as he asked, "Hello Dean. Sam." The man kept his eerie blue eyes fixed on Stiles as he announced, " It is unusual for you to kidnap humans."

            The hunters appeared to be recovering from the surprise of his appearance too, well, Stiles mused, at least I'm not the only one. Dean took a moment to process the man's words, and then he blinked and raised his eyebrows as he clarified, "Wait- _human_?"

            Stiles, however, was not going to waste this precious opportunity just to listen to the psychos. Instead he gawked at the man in front of him as he loudly asked, "What the hell?! Did you just teleport here? What kind of were-creature are you? Dude. _Dude_. Get your ass over here and bite me. No, seriously, give me the bite- I could use that kind of gift. I mean, teeth and claws? Not exactly worth hunters for life, but _teleportation?_ Yes please. Signing on the dotted line, consider this consent."

"I am an angel of the Lord." The man's gravelly, confused voice replied

"Cool." Stiles answered, "So how do I sign up. Is it a ritual? Spell? Or is it actually still just a bite, because that'd probably take the least amount of effort right now. Seriously though, If you haven't noticed I could seriously use some teleportation right about now."

 

***

            It wasn't until the wolves split up, searching the reserve in the shadows of the trees that Derek found any hint about where Stiles could be. The wolf had paired his betas together according to a comment that Stiles made once, at a time before Derek had accepted his feelings for the emissary.

_Derek had sent his pack off to do some training, leaving him and Stiles as a pair for the exercise, as expected, it took about three seconds for Stiles to start talking as they began their walk into the reserve._

_"Y'know, usually you're too hard on your pack, but- and I can't believe that I'm saying this- right now you're kind of being a pushover." Stiles announced._

_Derek was itching to ignore the human, after all, what could he possibly know about leading a pack? Derek was a born-wolf; and Stiles had never been one. It was absurd to even humour Stiles by prompting him._

_Which is why Derek surprised himself when he grunted out a quiet, "What?"_

_Stiles grinned, tripping over a root and flailing a little to catch his balance. Derek didn't even flinch towards him- if the human fell, he'd just have to get back up and brush himself off. Stiles, unaware of Derek's annoyance, began to explain himself, "You sent Erica with Boyd, Isaac with Cora, Scott with Allison, Kira with Malia and, Jackson and Lydia together."_

_"I'm aware of that." Derek said with a tense jaw._

_Stiles waved his arms around wildly, which Derek assumed was supposed to support his argument somehow, before clarifying, "You're spoiling them! You sent them off with the pack mates that they already like the most! Erica is just going to flirt with Boyd the whole time, and he'll let her do whatever she wants. Similarly, Isaac's going to be flirting with Cora the whole time, and she'll be distracted from their task because she'll be threatening him. Scott and Allison will probably end up making out in a meadow or something sickeningly romantic like that. Kira and Malia will be more interested in gossiping than their task, and Jackson and Lydia are going to either argue about their date night this week, make out, or circle back to have sex in his Porche. You sent everybody away in the pairs that were easiest, when you should mix and match them so that they learn to work with one another and you find out who actually works best with one another."_

_Derek always hated it when Stiles was right._

            Derek inhaled deeply, trying to get himself out of the memory. Wishing Stiles was safe in his arms wasn't going to be helpful, so instead he tried to catch his scent.

            They had already been in the forest for almost half an hour when he caught the scent- it was faint, but there all the same. Derek bounded towards Stiles' scent as Scott trailed after him. A couple minutes later Scott's nose twitched and he perked up a bit- he had caught the scent too.

            Stiles' scent ended at his backpack which lay abandoned about seven meters into the forest. Derek growled low, reaching down to empty Stiles' bag as Scott checked out the road. A few books and a change of clothes fell out of Stiles' bag. Derek snapped his head back- why would Stiles be bringing a change of clothes to his house? Usually on pack nights he just slept in the clothes that he was wearing.

Derek brought the clothes up to his nose, picking up on something strange.

There was an unfamiliar scent- something distinctly not Stiles.

That had to be why Stiles packed the clothes, they had the scent of the hunters on them.

            Derek announced as much to Scott, who was walking back slowly with his eyes on the L.E.D. screen in his hand. When the wolf looked up, Derek could see his frown. Scott said, "His phone was by the side of the road; he never loses it."

            The alpha held his hand out, a silent demand that Scott would have rose his hackles at in the past. Instead, the beta handed the phone over without question. Derek frowned at the screen, he checked Stiles' phone history- he didn't try to call anybody. Glancing to the top of the screen Derek saw the single glowing bar and opened up Stiles' messages.

"Scott." He growled.

The beta stiffened before asking, "Yes?"

"Check your messages." Derek clenched his jaw together hard, trying to tell himself that Stiles cared about his friend, no matter how crappy of a friend the beta was sometimes. The reminder didn't stop the familiar twinge of his brow shifting from human to his beta form; but Scott still seemed blissfully unaware of his current predicament.

            Scott frowned as he wrinkled his eyebrows, reaching into his pocket and drawing out his own phone. A few seconds later he gasped, "Dude, Stiles sent me a message!"

"He's your _best friend_ , Scott! Are you seriously unable to check your messages every once in awhile?!" Derek's voice was much rougher than he expected. He could feel his teeth growing and his brow changing. At some point the alpha had grabbed Scott by the collar, pressing the beta's back hard against a tree.

Scott was breathing loudly, his head angled up and away- a subconscious sign of submission as the heavy stench of anxiety poured from the boy.

Derek dropped him, trying to take in deep breaths to chase the anger away.

Anger used to be his anchor, but for some reason the longer Stiles was gone, the less stable Derek felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for not posting in so long. I moved and switched schools and had to adjust and move in and meet people and try to keep up and buy text books and UGH it's ridiculous!! So yeah, I am so sorry!  
> My Beta is littleredsterek.tumblr.com PLEASE Check her out, she's amazing, and my littleredbestie, and she's just so genuine and fantabulous. 10/10 lady, go look at her tumblr! :) 
> 
> Okay, so I received a message about things like Timelines and The course of my story and stuff from a user named Cathilina. I'm going to do my best to answer this as effectively as possible, and I'm going to apologize right now because there are a lot of things that I am about to say that you probably won't really be super thrilled about?  
> Sorry...  
> So here's the thing: Yes, the timeline is messy in this story. Long story short, I expected like, a 5 chapter little piece about fun magical connections and how it pushes them together and romance and crap. That is not what happened here.  
> What ended up happening is that I got a Beta who is awesome and encouraged me to keep writing and make it much, much longer.  
> So the time-line is crap. Erica, Boyd, Allison, And like, all of the pack is here. I started this at the very beginning of Season 4, and I kind of envisioned it as a possible outcome a few years down the road after season 3b, but s4 was just starting, so I disregarded the whole thing. Yes, the alpha pack and Nogitsune and stuff happened.  
> In supernatural, the timeline was even more screwy because I never intended for them to have a big part, they were just going to be antagonists until like the last chapter or something, so now I'm kind of sitting here with all of these things that weren't supposed to be as long and detailed as they turned out to be. I was thinking post S7 I think for Supernatural, but honestly I haven't seen it in a few years either, so it's kind of hard to remember everything (I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.)  
> The werewolves, as you've seen in this chapter, have not been met by our favourite hunters. Sorry man, that's just how I kind of pictured it because they've met a different kind. The Winchesters are quick learners though, so don't expect them to stay in the dark for long. I guess all that I can say on this topic is, this is just how it goes in my mind, I can't picture it any other way at this point. I hope that you can find it in you to trust me to make sure to do it justice though, because I really will try :o  
> Anyways, I hope that this answers some questions that you all might have been considering. I hope that you enjoyed the chapter! <3


	9. Stripped Bare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Stiles tries to cast a protection spell on Derek and accidentally casts a spell much stronger than either of them expected, the duo has to relearn everything that they've learned about protecting the pack, because the old methods won't do anymore. With the infamous Winchesters coming to town Derek hopes that the hunters will just drive through town, but the pack has never been good that laying low.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry that it took me so long! I wish that I could promise to be faster on the updates, but my beta LittleRedSterek.tumblr.com and I have both been super busy, which means that you guys have to wait a little bit longer. I hope that you like where the story is headed, this one felt longer than the other chapters, but hey, maybe that's just because it took me so long. I fixed it up after Tamz edited it and I didn't give her a chance to look it over again, so I'm sorry if the quality isn't as good as it could be (My bad!) I just thought that you guys were probably pretty sick of waiting. I hope that you all like it <3

 

            Sam watched as Dean paced back and forth in front of the kid that they kidnapped. His brother ran a hand through his hair before walking straight over the kid and leaning down so that they were eye to eye. Dean pointed a stern finger at Stiles and said, "Just because you're human don't mean your friends are."

"Wow." Stiles breathed and squinted a little as he whispered, "Your English is crap. Did you even graduate high school or is 'murderer' an acceptable career where you're from?"

Dean set his jaw and clenched his fist at his side. The kid was lucky he was both young, and human, or Sam was sure that Dean would have punched him. Sam turned his gaze to the Sheriff's son; Sam couldn't get a peg on him. When the hunters first met the kid in the Sheriff's department he seemed like he was just an overprotective son, but Sam knew that he was more than that.

            Stiles was intelligent- he could tell that they weren't real FBI agents, and that they were hunters. He was obviously loyal- he had made his loyalty to the werewolves abundantly clear.

            The most confusing thing about Stiles was how he was handling this whole situation. He contradicted himself so often that Sam couldn't keep up- one second the kid was terrified, the next he was an arrogant brat, and then a jokester. The hunter narrowed his eyes at Stiles as he considered the fact that maybe that was exactly what Stiles wanted. Before he had a chance to figure out why,  Stiles interrupted his thoughts. "Seriously though, have you guys ever _actually_ hunted anything? Because you don't sound like you know anything about anything."

"Have we ever-" Dean began, he threw his hands up suddenly as he answered, "Of course we've hunted before! We're hunters, that's what we _do_."

Stiles just narrowed his eyes at Dean and whispered, "You know _nothing_ , Jon Snow." Before cackling. Apparently he felt safe enough to crack jokes again, Sam shook his head minutely at him.

            Sam considered gagging the kid again, but decided that if he was human they probably shouldn't traumatize him too much. Instead, Sam stood and approached the kid cuffed to the chair, "We've been hunting since we were children, Stiles. We've hunted a lot of things, including werewolves. What makes you think that we don't know what we're doing?"

The angel interrupted, "These werewolves are different."

"What, like a different breed?" Dean asked, raising his eyebrows as he glanced back to Cas briefly.

            Stiles seethed and immediately leaned forward so far that the cuffs must have dug into his wrists sharply, but the kid didn't show that he felt the pain as he hissed, "Don't talk about them like they are some kind of mutts. My pack is better than that. They're better than you. If you are ever so much as in the same room as one of my pack mates, _I'll kill you_."

            Both hunters stiffened at the rant, and shared a glance at each other. Sam could tell that Dean was thinking the same thing that he was. Tentatively he took a deep breath and asked softly, "Your pack?"

"Yes." The kid's eyes were fierce, "My pack. They're _mine;_ I'm theirs. I'll die before I tell you where they are."  

Dean's mouth stretched out in a mocking smile as he crouched in front of Stiles once again before saying, "Good thing we're not going to them then. You're going to lead them right here."

            Sam winced when Stiles tried to throw himself at Dean. Stiles' shoulders almost dislocated at the force, and the kid's teeth were bared not unlike a wolf's themselves.

He might not be a wolf, but Sam wasn't altogether sure that he was completely human either.

 

            The two hunters stepped outside, presumably to talk about what to do next, leaving Stiles with the angel. He thought about angels for a moment, and then Stiles squinted at the man and said, "You're not exactly standard angel-material, are you? I expected more halo, and less general-sloppiness."

            The man, who had been staring at the door that the hunters went through, turned to face Stiles without an expression. He looked down at his attire and back up again, this time his eyebrows furrowed a little as he said, "Is there something wrong?"

            Stiles just shook his head- he was hardly the person to lecture anybody about their fashion sense. Lydia had pointed out his wardrobe's flaws enough that he knew that he was crap at things like this. Instead, he cleared his throat before he looked away. The man just watched him, and finally Stiles found his voice and asked, "So, are you're really- y'know- an angel?"

            He could see the man nod from his peripheral vision, and Stiles wet his lips before he asked, "Is my mom... Is she, well, happy?"

            The angel waited until Stiles glanced up to meet his eyes before answering, "She is in heaven, yes, and she loves you very much."

"And," Stiles reiterated, "She's happy."

"Yes, she's happy."

            Stiles waited a beat before he forced himself to ask the question that was really gnawing at him. He hated feeling this vulnerable around people that he cared about, never mind a strange man who was on the enemies' side. His voice warbled, he couldn't stop it as he asked, "Does she hate me?"

            The angel turned his head minutely, but kept eye contact before replying with a question of his own, "Should she hate you?"

_It was my fault; it was my fault she died. She's dead because of me._

            Instead of answering, Stiles looked away, unable to continue meeting the angel's unblinking gaze. A wolf would see his reaction as weakness, and Stiles was under no illusion- he was weak. He was always the weak one.

 

            His mother used to walk around barefoot all the time, when he asked her about it, she told him that it made her feel closer to the earth. She always seemed to like the grass between her toes. The memory of his mother before hospitalization was vivid; everywhere she looked she seemed to spread light, love, and happiness. Everyone who spoke to her smiled; she was too young to have such defined wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, but when people teased her about it she only laughed some more. After the hospital things started to change. Day after day, Stiles would come to the hospital after school, climbing up on her hospital bed to read with her. She would read at first, but as she became more and more tongue-tied, she insisted that he read to her.

            The sheriff had to work more and more double shifts to pay for the hospitalization, despite wanting to spend his time with his wife and son, which left Stiles with his mommy more days than not. At first he loved the attention, she still smiled and laughed and loved him. As the disease progressed, however, everything began to change. She was easily irritable, snapping at her son for taking too long to answer a question or for telling her something that she didn't want to hear.

            At first she would comfort him and apologize, wiping away his tears and looking near tears herself, but as time passed, she became less and less empathetic. Instead of comfort, she began to simply watch her child cry, and eventually snap at him for crying. Stiles only sobbed louder as he tried, in vain, to wipe away the tears with the sleeve of his shirt. That was about the time that Melissa rushed in to picked him up, telling him that his mother just needed rest and that she didn't mean it.

            The chubby cheeked little boy nodded his head, trying to catch his breath and stop the tears, but he never believed her. His mother loved everybody, she only spoke like this to the nurses, the doctors, and now him.

_"I'm too tired, go play somewhere else."_

_"I'm dying, why can't you just leave me alone?"_

_"I can't do this anymore, it's killing me!"_

           

            When his mother died, he stood by and watched his father shatter. There was nothing that he could do- he didn't want to get in the way. He was afraid that if he tired his daddy too much, then he would die too. He was afraid that if he disappointed his dad, then he would get upset, like his mom used to. He was selfish- afraid that he'd be all alone.

            The preteen boy taught himself to lie, if his father didn't know that he was picked on then maybe he wouldn't be disappointed like his mother was.

            He kept out of his dad's way, taking to paying more and more attention to his studies, and cooking microwaved meals for all of the family that he had left.

            He learned not to look in mirrors- the eyes that used to remind him of his mother now only seemed to reflect the bottles that his father drowned himself in.

 

Bottles that his father would go back to when he heard that Stiles got himself killed by a couple of rogue hunters.  

 

 He couldn't save his mother. He couldn't save Heather. He obviously couldn't save himself.  How was he supposed to save his pack?

            He knew that he couldn't. Stiles wasn't a hero, he didn't have the moral high ground that Scott had. He didn't have the strength to get back up again like Derek did. He didn't have the trust and obedience of any of the other pack members. Hell, all Stiles ever did was get in the way and screw things up for everybody else.

            The thought made Stiles want to give up. He hated being saved, and he hated that he needed to be saved, and he hated that he had been so happy to be accepted into the pack because now they were going to come after him and get themselves killed.

 

            Unfortunately, giving up wouldn't stop any of it from happening, so Stiles gritted his teeth and blinked away the tears that had begun to form at the corners of his eyes- what he needed was to stop trying to emotionally cope with all of his crap.

What he needed was a plan.

******

            Sam lightly grabbed Dean's arm as soon as the door closed behind them, "Dean, we time to research. Dad's journal only has entries about one kind of werewolf, so unless Cas happens to know what their weaknesses are, we are going to need to get back to the motel."

            Dean pushed his brother's arm away and grinned, "Trust me, Sammy, it'll be fine. Cas will tell us their weaknesses, the pack will sniff out their wanna-be wolf, and we'll save Beacon Hills from the werewolves plaguing it. We'll be out of town before you know it."

            The younger brother didn't look convinced, but he nodded despite that. Dean, on the other hand, smirked as he stared out into the night. Leading monsters straight to them wasn't usually the Winchester style, but Dean knew that it was their best chance at figuring out who the whole pack was.

            After a few more minutes outside, the brothers turned and walked back in. It was hardly a homey location though, and Dean hoped that the werewolves would show up soon.

            This case was odd, Dean had never seen a human stick up so much for a pack of werewolves, it rubbed Dean the wrong way, making him almost doubt himself. He was quick to pushed aside his thoughts though- after all, according to Bobby, this pack had ripped plenty of hearts from hunters' chests.

Unfortunately, until the werewolves got to the rendez vous, he and Sam would be listening to the Sheriff's son because apparently all he did was talk. Great.

            Dean could feel his brows pinch together when he caught sight of the boy as he and Sam stepped back into the abandoned building. Stiles' eyes looked watery, like he'd been thinking about crying. The hunter cleared his throat, not wanting to address the kid's feelings. Sure enough, the kid put on a brave face and glared at the hunters.

            Dean turned his gaze to Cas, who was staring blatantly at the kid. The hunter frowned, "So Cas, you've seen these kinds of weres before?"

            The angel looked towards him before nodding slowly without offering any kind of information. Dean rested his eyes for a moment, feeling a headache coming on, and then he tried to keep as much sarcasm out of his voice as possible as he asked, "Well do you want to share with the group?"

            Cas glanced towards Stiles and stared for a moment before turning his attention to Dean once again and explaining, "The werewolves that you have grown accustomed to meeting were first prominent in Greece."

            Sam jumped in, adding more explanation, "Yeah, the weres originated in Greece before traveling North and towards the rest of Europe, becoming prominent in France in particular before becoming more widespread, they are killed by stabbing them through the heart with silver. Like most of Greek mythology, the werewolves are bloodthirsty creatures."

            Castiel inclined his head in acknowledgement, but then added, "This pack , however, did not originate in Greece, but in Ireland-"

An eerie silence fell amongst the hunters as a howl resounded; it sounded close.

Dean swore as Stiles grinned, the little shit.

"Cas, we need weaknesses. Now." Dean demanded. The angel frowned before announcing, "You do not have what we need. The wolves only want their human, we can leave the boy and find the true culprits."

"The true- these are _monsters_ , Cas. Do you remember what the last werewolf we came across did?" Dean demanded, but he didn't wait for an answer, instead he asked again, "What are their weaknesses, we've got everything in the trunk."

The angel was already shaking his head, "Aconite. It is not a poison that you have amongst your arsenal, Dean."

            Sam and Dean stared at each other for a moment, trying to silently agree on a plan of action. After a moment, both hunters nodded and looked towards Stiles- there wasn't time to leave. Looks like they were going to have to fight.


	10. Pruning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Stiles tries to cast a protection spell on Derek and accidentally casts a spell much stronger than either of them expected, the duo has to relearn everything that they've learned about protecting the pack, because the old methods won't do anymore. With the infamous Winchesters coming to town Derek hopes that the hunters will just drive through town, but the pack has never been good that laying low.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took me so long to post, but I hope that you enjoy! :)  
> I love constructive criticism, and thanks for reading!
> 
> I know that this is a little bit shorter than usual, but I felt like this was just kind of the natural place to break up the chapter. Hopefully it won't take me too long to post again, but no promises, sorry <3

**Chapter 10: Pruning**

            It was well past dark, and the unfamiliar, looming shapes of what Stiles hoped were only trees were making him anxious. Well, and the fact that his pack was going to have to fight against hunters again- the only blessing was that these hunters had no idea what they were doing. Which meant that yes, they probably wouldn't be able to kill any of his pack mates, but that didn't mean that they would escape unscathed.

            His worries stuttered to a stop as he paused to consider how easy it had become to call the other wolves 'pack mates'. It wasn't long ago that Derek had to convince Stiles that he was pack, but somehow Stiles was already calling them his pack mates in his head. Apparently being held captive away from the pack was some kind of twisted, one way bonding experience.

            The hunters had decided to relocate the showdown on the road, apparently they didn't want to be trapped in a closed space. Stiles watched as Sam closed the trunk to their muscle car and walked quickly back to Dean and himself. The duffle bag that Sam was lugging seemed to be large enough for an Argent to be hauling around which didn't bode particularly well for the pack. Meanwhile, Dean seemed to be watching his partner's back while resting the barrel of his handgun against Stiles' back.

            It was a cold reminder that he was weak; Stiles had been captured because he had been stupid, and now the whole pack was going to be in trouble. In the past, he would have doubted that the wolves would come for him, but he could remember the intensity of Derek's eyes when he told Stiles that he was part of the pack. If Derek considered him pack, then they would come for him.

            Stiles was distracted from his thoughts by watching the angel shift in the corner of his eyes. The man's beige coat was still rumpled, his tie on backwards as he stared out into the darkness; he looked ridiculous. 

            The hunters had just finished tucking various guns and knives into their clothing when a loud growl ripped through the clearing. The barrel that had been pressed against Stiles' back moved to inch slowly up the muscles in his back, neck, and finally the barrel pressed hard against Stiles' temple.

            His mind raced. He had to help somehow. If his arms weren't cuffed together then he might have been able to knock Dean's gun away from him fast enough for the wolves to attack, but Sam probably still would have been able to shoot him before he could do much else. Stiles knew that he could hit the ground pretty fast, but once again, it would be a huge risk when there were two experienced hunters and a freakin' angel to worry about.

            The growl was growing louder and louder and more and more wolves joined in on the aggression, until finally Dean demanded, "All of you out in the open or he gets it through his skull."

            The growls faded and a sole dark chuckle slid out from the darkness; Derek melted out of the shadows. Stiles lifted a solitary eyebrow at the wolf- he thought that the alpha had grown out of that little habit years ago, but apparently not. Derek ignored his expression, instead he was staring at the hunters with lips contorted into a mockery of a smile as his dark voice said, "Can't lie to a werewolf, try again."

            Stiles could feel a bit more pressure of the cold barrel to his forehead as Dean ground out, "Fine. We try to avoid getting humans involved, but his humanity isn't enough to protect him completely- after all, he does claim to be a part of your little pack."  

            Stiles watched as Derek bared his teeth and his eyes flashed red, immediately Stiles heard both hunters take sharp inhalations, and Dean growled, "A crossroads demon?"

The deep voice of the angel said, "No, this is the alpha, but he is unlike the other alphas you have met."

            Stiles watched in horror as Sam rose his handgun to point at Derek, a handful of growls immerged from the darkness. Both hunters glanced around, looking apprehensive for a moment, but then Dean recovered as he clicked the safety off of his gun. Derek's eyes bled red and stayed that way as he let out a loud snarl that the pack echoed.

            Dean's voice was unwavering as he said, "Tell you what Stiles, I'll let you go- pain free- after your 'alpha' calls the rest of your little pack out into the open."

            Derek bared his teeth, but his glance flickered back and forth between some of the different shadows. No. No, no, no, no. If the hunters saw who was part of the pack then they could pick them off- surely Derek valued their lives over his. He wouldn't be foolish enough to let the hunters know who was part of the pack.

            The emissary in training watched in horror as Derek nodded once, but Stiles interrupted, "No!"

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion.

            Stiles dropped to the ground, kicking out with his dominant foot to catch Sam by surprise- the hunter fell hard as his gun clattered to the ground. Derek snarled as he leapt towards the hunters just as Dean shifted his barrel from Stiles to the alpha and the loudest sound that Stiles had ever heard erupted, leaving his ears ringing and he doubled over, unable to breathe.

            It was like a flare was set off inside of his gut, burning pain blistered throughout Stiles' abdomen and it wasn't until after the initial explosion that the human realized that his ears were still ringing and his throat felt like it was being shredded.

            He could hear something faintly, like a deafened scream- his scream, Stiles realized. That wasn't all though, howling maybe? Or shrieks? He thought he could hear his name, but his focus was worse than that one withdrawal during the SATs when he decided that he didn't need his Adderall anymore.

            There was something going on- his eyelids fluttered for a moment and he caught sight of his red headed goddess, her voice wasn't as angelic as usual, it sounded far away, like he was trying to listen underwater, "Cold, clammy skin, pale, drowsiness, and confusion- he's in shock. Get him bundled up, you can't let him get cold."

            Stiles could feel himself trying to say something, but he couldn't make out his own words. Scott and Isaac were wrapping him up with something, didn't they understand that they needed to be with Derek? He couldn't remember why, but he had to get to Derek. He needed to see Derek, but his mind faded away for a moment, and when his eyes opened again he could make out a bleary Erica. Her hair was messy in a way that it hadn't been since she became a werewolf- even messier than when she was all strung up in Gerard's basement. She was pushing Isaac out of the way and snarling about someone getting away, and Stiles wanted to understand more but his abdomen was still blistering from the inside. This time when he was lulled into darkness he didn't fight it.

                        *                                  *                                  *

            Dean didn't feel guilty about shooting the monster; he was just relieved that his reflexes had him shoot at the werewolf and not Stiles. What he did feel guilty about was the terrible scream that Stiles had let out. At first Dean thought it was because he was scared for the werewolf, but the human had been screaming like the victim and clutching his stomach- exactly where Dean had hit the werewolf.

The werewolf who didn't even seem to notice that he had been shot.

            The alpha had been almost on him, and Dean had seen at least three monsters leaping at Sam with undoubtedly lethal intentions, when Castiel once again saved their asses. The angel appeared between the brothers and clutching tightly onto each of their arms before vanishing.

            Dean still felt nauseous, but he supposed that being backed up for a few days was probably better than being dead. He had already thanked Cas, but looking at Sam, Dean considered thanking him again. He would never forgive himself if he got Sam killed again.

            He couldn't shake the unnerved experience though- Cas had assured them that Stiles was human, so what had happened back there? Was he psychic somehow? Dean shook himself and tried to focus on the present. Sam was fine. Cas was fine. He was fine.

            Dean holstered his gun and gritted his teeth before addressing his companions, "Am I the only one who felt weird about all of that?"

"Yeah." Sam agreed, turning to the angel in their company, "Cas you weren't kidding about the werewolves being different from the kind we're used to."

            Castiel looked the hunter straight in the eyes, "A kid is a young goat. Human language is remarkable, isn't it?"

            Before Sam got a chance to reply, Dean interrupted, "What the hell happened back there? The alpha didn't even flinch, but the kid screamed so loudly that for a second I thought he was the one who got shot."

            Neither of his companions had an answer, but they all agreed that they were going to be settling down for a long night of research- apparently they had a lot to learn.

Dean  didn't want to call the churning in his gut worry, but he couldn't deny that he hoped that Stiles was alright.


	11. Transplanted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Stiles tries to cast a protection spell on Derek and accidentally casts a spell much stronger than either of them expected, the duo has to relearn everything that they've learned about protecting the pack, because the old methods won't do anymore. With the infamous Winchesters coming to town Derek hopes that the hunters will just drive through town, but the pack has never been good that laying low.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, sorry that it took so long. I encourage constructive criticism, and I hope that you enjoy :)   
> Merry Christmas and Happy New Years to everyone <3
> 
> I know that I probably could have used an extra 500 words or so, but honestly I feel so bad about making you guys wait so long that I just want to get this posted, and it seemed like such a natural place to end the chapter.

**Chapter 11: Transplanted**

Derek's head hung heavily in his hands- the one thing that Deaton had warned him of was not to get hurt. Stiles' psyche is too fragile for this kind of shit, the alpha reminded himself. The werewolf could still remember Stiles' scent for the first year after the Nogitsune had possessed him. The human usually smelt good- like safety, honesty, and comfort, but for that first year all Derek could smell was the bitter tang of regret, the stale scent of guilt, and the sharpness of fear.

            It wasn't an uncommon occurrence for Derek to hear Stiles' accelerated heart rate during his midnight route. Derek would slip into Stiles' window expecting an enemy- when the only enemy was in Stiles' mind. Nightmares had plagued him for so long that Derek wasn't even sure if they had stopped yet.  

This wasn't the first time in Derek's life that he hated himself.

            He could hear Lydia and Deaton trying to hush their voices in the other room, obviously they didn't want him to hear what they were saying so he tried to ignore them and focus on himself. On Stiles' heartbeat. On his guilt.

            Derek glanced across the room where his betas were all waiting. Erica, Boyd, and Isaac were crowded in on each other, several inches closer to Derek than they were last time he growled at them- clearly trying to sneak closer. Scott, Allison, and Kira huddled just outside of the other trio's circle with Cora standing between the two groups as she rested a sturdy hand on the back of Isaac's neck. She was delivering a pretty steady Hale glare to Derek; Malia stood beside her with crossed arms and a glare to match. Jackson stood apart from the rest of the pack, his jaw set and his eyebrows pinched. Danny stood close to Jackson, but he looked out of place, obviously wanting to stand by his friend and the rest of the pack as well.

            When Lydia and Alan Deaton walked into the room every person's eyes snapped to the pair, but the duo only looked at the alpha as they delivered the news, "He's still out, but we think that he'll be okay." Deaton said, voice grave.

"We cannot have him overwhelmed when he wakes," Lydia announced as she held up a hand to stop the pack from moving, "which is why Derek will be the only one in the room when he wakes up."

            Protests arose quickly and loudly, but a sharp comment from Jackson had the pack shut up, "I seriously doubt that he needs to wake up to you guys _arguing_."

            Derek finally got the chance to mumble, "I don't really think that I should be the one to..." He hesitated, but Lydia took it upon herself to fill in his silence as she propped a hand on her hip, "Explain what happened? Discuss the next strategy with your emissary?"

            The alpha winced at each suggestion, but Lydia's last reason made him feel like his breath was knocked out of him for a moment, "Comfort your pack member? Stiles Stilinski is your responsibility, Alpha Hale. He's _yours._ "

            Thoroughly chastised, Derek nodded without meeting Lydia's eyes. Instead he stood, brushing off his jeans as he walked past Deaton and Lydia without another word. They were right, after all.

            Derek should have known that the worst thing that he could do for Stiles was bring him under the protection of an alpha like himself.

                        *                                              *                                              *

            There was a place between reality and his dreams that Stiles hated. It felt distinctly different from the possession of the Nogitsune, but similar as well- like his consciousness was just out of reach, but he could still catch glimpses of what was going on.

            At first there was pain, a lot of pain, shortly followed by a stillness that only unconsciousness could provide. After that he caught flashes of consciousness- hushed whispers, saying his name without talking directly to him, a raucous that was strangely familiar, and then finally the caress of a palm on his cheek and a nuzzle to his hairline. Somebody whispered something, and Stiles could dimly feel the urge to comfort, but he couldn't reach the surface; with great dismay he drowned in the darkness again.

            Eventually he managed to crack his eyes open, only to wince and close them tightly against the Florescent lights of Deaton's clinic. After a moment a shadow dimmed the light behind his eyes, and Stiles cautiously cracked his eyelids open a bit. Derek loomed over him with a carefully blank expression, which had Stiles worried instantly.

"What's wrong?" Stiles sat up so quickly that Derek had to draw back a bit to avoid them knocking heads. The alpha grunted, "What?"

"What's wrong?" Stiles reiterated, "You aren't greeting me with a glare- something has to be horribly wrong. Is it Scott? Is he dead?! Oh God, Melissa is going to kill me!"

"What? No," Derek scrunched his nose a little, making the butterflies in Stiles' stomach flutter briefly. Derek continued, "Scott is fine. Everything is fine."

            Stiles watched Derek carefully for a moment before correcting him, "No it's not. You're lying to me." The alpha looked affronted, but Stiles pressed on without letting him defend himself, "I don't have to be a werewolf to know how to read people, O Alpha my alpha. You, good sir, have a tell."

            For a moment Derek looked like he had nothing to say, but after a careful moment he let his eyebrows rise and his voice dripped with sarcasm as he asked, "You're calling me sir now?"

            The human could feel himself flush, deciding to ignore the wolf, Stiles demanded, "What happened? Where are the hunters? Is everybody okay?"

"They're gone. We're fine. I-" Derek faltered before glancing down at Stiles' abdomen and back to his face, "We?" He shook his head again before changing his mind again, "I got shot. Deaton is worried about you- you went into shock."

The human squinted at Derek as he asked, "The hunters are gone? What do you mean by 'gone'?"

            The werewolf shook his head, "I need to know that you're alright, Stiles. You're my first priority. Everybody is safe- we can discuss the hunters later."

"I'm your first priority?" Stiles couldn't help the small voice that he asked it in. He swallowed, trying to will away the butterflies.

Turns out, he didn't need to will them away, because Derek easily banished them with his next sentence.

"Of course," he said, voice gruff as he avoided Stiles' gaze, "You're the pack emissary. You need to be okay."

 

"Right. The emissary."

"Right."

 

            After a prolonged silence, the door to the room pushed open as the entirety of the pack poured into the room. They all seemed to be anxious to see him, and even more anxious to talk to him. Voices chattered so loudly that Stiles couldn't keep up until Derek growled low in his throat- demanding silence.

            The wolves checked in with him one at a time, checking to see how he was, if there was anything that they could do, how he got kidnapped.

            At that question, Stiles' involuntary glance flew between Erica and Derek, and then he settled it deliberately on the blanket that Deaton had draped over him.

            "I just, uh, went for a run and they saw me. It was stupid, don't worry about it." Stiles mumbled. Ha, just try to listen to my heart, he thought. It was true, he did run and it was definitely stupid- but Stiles would rather do anything other than remember what Derek looked like with his arms supporting Erica as her legs wrapped around his waist.

            The human clenched the blanket in his hands, which thankfully got the pack off of his back for a moment. Instead, Deaton said neutrally that they could take him home.           Except, apparently nobody understood what _home_ meant, because somehow he ended up at Derek's house on a mattress on the living room floor. The rest of the pack was curled up around him- Kira nestled in front of him, somehow becoming the little spoon to his medium spoon, to Jackson's big spoon.

Yes, _Jackson._

Stiles couldn't believe it either.

            Isaac was laying across Stiles' lower body while Boyd's abdomen seemed to be Stiles' pillow. Scott was curled against Kira, his face towards Stiles' so that they would be looking at each other if the werewolf was awake- and Cora was sleeping leaning in a sitting up position against the couch with a hand in Isaac's hair. Malia was cuddled up to Jackson's back, Erica was laying half on top of Boyd, and Danny was laying on the couch with a hand hanging off and loosely holding Cora's free hand.

            Lydia was standing by the window, looking into the darkness of the Hale property as she whispered to Derek who had a hand on the doorknob. She was telling him that he should be with his pack, not in the forest alone. Derek didn't answer for a moment, but when he did it was a curt response- something about keeping someone safe? Stiles couldn't focus on trivial things like consciousness when he was surrounded by the warmth and comfort of his pack.

He had never been cuddled by them all like this, but Stiles still felt like it would've been just a little warmer with Derek there.


	12. Perfect Stillness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Stiles tries to cast a protection spell on Derek and accidentally casts a spell much stronger than either of them expected, the duo has to relearn everything that they've learned about protecting the pack, because the old methods won't do anymore. With the infamous Winchesters coming to town Derek hopes that the hunters will just drive through town, but the pack has never been good that laying low.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1st off, as always, I am sorry this is so late. Life is insane and it feels like school is draining the creative life out of me sometimes :(  
> 2nd: Thank you so much to everybody who is still reading! :) I hope that you're enjoying the story! :D  
> 3rd: I'm sorry that there isn't really much plot in this chapter- I just get caught up in puppy piles and never want to let them end :o   
> 4rth: I know that it's short- I'm awful, but i have a huge test tomorrow on the endocrine system, and it is so confusing I need all the studying time I can get :( 
> 
> Next chapter will have more plot, I promise '^'  
> I hope you enjoy! <3

**Chapter 12: Perfect Stillness**

            He groaned at the sudden coolness beside him, and Stiles blinked his bleary eyes. Kira had sat up and was whispering with Scott. Usually when the two were that close to each other's faces, they were giggling. At that moment, however, Stiles was painfully aware of the fox's eyebrows pinched together, eyes downcast, and hands wringing between them. Scott's voice was calm and controlled; Stiles had seen that look many times before. He had seen it when Scott demanded that they save Derek from the bullet wound. He had seen it when Scott repeated over and over again that the kanima would not be killed. He had seen it when Scott was determined to keep someone safe.

There was no doubt in Stiles' mind that that 'someone' was him.

            There was a slight rustle, causing Stiles to glance up towards the entrance. Derek was dragging himself through the front door, holding onto the doorknob so hard that it looked like that was the only think keeping the werewolf on his feet.

            His hair hung in his eyes, limp with moisture and starting to curl at the ends. Shirtless, as all of the wolves were after shifting, and with sweatpants rumpled and hanging low, as if he had just pulled them on as an afterthought, Derek blinked at the couple before turning his gaze to Stiles'.

            Dark bags hung under the wolf's eyes, making Stiles feel the unnecessary urge to reach out and pull the alpha's face into his chest. Before Stiles could question his strange urge, Derek turned away to walk up the stairs, away from the pack.

            A small protest rose in his throat before Stiles could help it, making every conscious Were freeze and cut their eyes to him. Malia, still curled up and asleep behind Jackson, made a small whine in response to his distress. Derek slowly took one more step towards his room, and Stiles bit his lip hard to avoid making another sound- what was wrong with him today? His reaction was strange, usually he didn't even have to think about holding in his emotions, but it was like his emotions were faster than his brain today.

            Stiles was surprised out of his thoughts by a high pitched growl, soft enough that none of the wolves that Stiles could see from his position twitched. Kira's eyes were glowing softly at Derek, as she waited a moment before growling again, this time there was a deep growl from beneath Stiles' head as Boyd rumbled at the alpha.

            Apparently that was enough for Derek to change his mind, with a huff that sounded a lot like surrender, the alpha descended to the sleeping pack. Everyone had shifted somewhat, but most of the pack was in similar positions to when they fell asleep- Boyd was still being a fantastic pillow, Jackson was beside Stiles now, as the human had rolled onto his back at some point. Isaac seemed to have rolled closer to the couch Cora was sleeping on, and they had apparently ended up holding hands. Allison and Lydia had joined the nap crew at some point, and were over on the other side of Malia and Jackson.

            Derek paused above the pack, and without thinking about it Stiles made another small sound. The human felt heat rush to his cheeks as he swallowed hard, but before he had a chance to do anything more than blush, Derek made the cutest cooing sound in the back of his throat before Kira shifted away with Scott, letting the alpha snuggle right in beside Stiles.

            The rational part of Stiles' mind was hysterical with the need to figure out why everybody was acting so strangely, the larger part of his brain, however, was grabbing as the alpha. Derek rolled onto his side to stare at Stiles, and for a moment they only stared at one another. Scott stood and nodded and quietly said, "I'll run the perimeter for awhile." The alpha nodded without looking away from Stiles, and there was a rustling before the door opened and closed. Kira released a small purr-like sound as she nestled back into the nap-time puppy pile.

            A few minutes passed before Stiles realized that he was nodding off, and if he didn't talk to Derek now, he might not have a chance to. The wolf could be evasive when he wanted to be. "I'm sorry."

            The alpha stiffened, narrowing his eyes at the human. Stiles continued softly, "I know I screwed up. You trusted me with yourself, and your pack, and I messed it up."

A self deprecating laugh bubbled out before Stiles could stop it, and he looked down at his pillow.

            Derek was silent for a few torturous moments, and then he finally grumbled, "I don't want you running off like that again. It's dangerous."

Stiles nodded, still not meeting Derek's eyes. The alpha nodded, and the two fell into silence once again.

            The emissary wondered what Derek could smell on him. Could he smell the shame that Stiles felt about it all? Did the jealousy festering smell sharp and unpleasant? Was there a thick fog of guilt dampening whatever scent was naturally _Stiles_?

            The human glanced up at Derek; his eyes were closed, but his breathing wasn't deep enough to be sleeping yet. "Derek?"

"Mmm?"

"Why is everybody acting so strange?"

            When the alpha cracked his eyelids and stared without a word, Stiles elaborated, "The growls," he glanced towards Boyd, Malia, and Kira, "the purr," he threw a more pointed look towards Kira again, "and me with the, um, little noises."

            He was painfully aware that it felt like the Sahara had relocated onto his face as his cheeks burned with heat, and Stiles focused his eyes down towards his hands that he was twisting in front of him.

            Derek didn't answer him for a few moments, and finally Stiles looked up to see eyes seeped in red staring at him. Only then did the alpha explain, in a deeper voice than Stiles was used to, "It's our instincts. Our reactions are more primal because the pack needs one another."

"I'm just the emissary." Stiles scrunched his nose, but Derek bared his teeth at the human for a moment before growling, "Not _just_. You are the emissary. You're _our_ emissary."

            Stiles bit his lip, wishing that he could make his face less warm, but to no avail. Derek finally grunted and grabbed at Stiles' left shoulder, the one closer to himself. The human couldn't help but give his alpha an odd look, but he let Derek maneuver him until Stiles was on his side facing Jackson. Derek wrapped an arm tightly around his midsection and tugged Stiles back, making the human let out a small squeak. Snug against all of Derek's front, Stiles swallowed hard, determined to keep his body from betraying him.

            The alpha made another soft sound, this seemed more like a deeper version of the purr Kira had released earlier, and Derek nuzzled his face into Stiles' hair. The rumbling continued, slowly lulling Stiles back into the comfort of sleep, pack, and _alpha._

                        *                                              *                                              *

It was Sam who finally found something helpful to the hunters.

            "Deaton. Alan Deaton owns an animal clinic in town and the staff at the clinic includes one Scott McCall. He's the kid that Stiles spends all of his time with according to the information that we found on him the other day."

Dean nodded at his brother, "Right, so let's go ask him about our local wolf-men."

            Sam continued, "There's one more who words at the clinic part-time apparently, named Isaac Lahey. He might be worth looking into too."

"One thing at a time, Sam, and we've been sitting here too long- let's go talk to the vet."

            Sam nodded, grabbing his jacket off of the back of his chair, and Castiel stood as well as he said, "I would like to accompany you."

Dean turned to look at Cas for a moment before saying, "Yeah, okay, let's go Cas."

The three left the hotel and got into the 67' Impala.


	13. Branching Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Stiles tries to cast a protection spell on Derek and accidentally casts a spell much stronger than either of them expected, the duo has to relearn everything that they've learned about protecting the pack, because the old methods won't do anymore. With the infamous Winchesters coming to town Derek hopes that the hunters will just drive through town, but the pack has never been good that laying low.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I didn't get this up last week- but it was close right?  
> Right?!
> 
> Anyways, I hope that you enjoy this chapter, it moved the plot forward for once! I know, for a moment I thought that I forgot about the plot too, but alas, here we are! :P 
> 
> I don't even know if I am making sense anymore. I think that I need to crash- also I may or may not have (Definitely that latter one actually), edited this, but if it needs it really badly let me know and I will read through it again when I am less exhausted. 
> 
> Happy Reading! :D
> 
> Also I found that writing Deaton is hard :( Does anybody else feel that way? Maybe it's just me, I don't know...

**Chapter 13: Branching Out**

            The veterinarian's office was closed, but when Sam knocked and waited for a moment a man opened the door. With dark skin, a bald head, and short stature, the veterinarian didn't seem very intimidating- and he definitely didn't have any werewolf vibes coming off of him.

"Hello, can I help you?" The vet asked genuinely.

            Castiel was staring at the man strangely, but in all honesty the strange look wasn't a foreign expression on the angel's face and so Sam ignored it and answered the man, "Yes, we were just wondering if we could ask you a couple of questions."

"Of course, come on in." The man pulled the door open and motioned for the trio to go inside. Sam stepped in first, looking around to take in the room. The reception desk was made of wood, and the man opened the gate and stepped behind the desk and smiled as he rested his hands on the desk top.

Dean led with, "The news suggests that there have been a lot of mountain lion attacks around here lately."

            Alan Deaton rose his eyebrows slightly and spoke with almost less emotion that Castiel, "That is what I have read in the papers as well."

            Sam watched as the vet and his brother stared at each other for an extra moment before the younger brother interrupted their impromptu staring contest. "It's Alan, right?"

He turned and gave same a polite smile as he agreed, "Dr. Alan Deaton."

            "Well, doctor, my brother and I have been in town for a couple of days and were getting a little bit worried about the safety of the area. We have only met a few people here, but a couple of them directed us to you for more information." Sam began.

            After Alan nodded, Dean picked up the explanation, "They seemed like pretty good kids actually, they said that they worked here sometimes. Lahey and McCall."

The vet nodded and said, "They spend time here."

            Sam clenched his jaw for a moment, and silently wished that the man was a little bit more forthcoming, but he continued the conversation despite the inkling of frustration, "So have you noticed any patterns to the attacks? Time of night, location of attacks, survivors?"

            The veterinarian considered them for a moment before he said, "Male mountain lions are actually very territorial, and when two live in the same area they have been known to kill the other's kittens in order to persuade his mate to leave him and join the other mountain lion instead."

            Dean, Sam, and Castiel all squinted at the vet, and when Cas finally spoke he sounded perplexed, "I do not think that he answered the question that we asked him."

Sam cleared his throat, "Right, so are you suggesting that there is more than just one cougar in the area?"

            The vet smiled for a moment, and the hunters regarded him in silence again as they tried to collect their thoughts. He spoke seriously, but he didn't seem to answer any of their questions, and he was definitely not forthcoming with helpful information, Sam thought.

            Dean took a deep breath before stepping forward to rest both of his hands on the reception desk and asking, "Okay, so what do you know about the kids in town? Like McCall and Lahey"

Alan Deaton's smile didn't seem to meet his eyes as he answered, "They do live in town; I doubt that they'll be leaving anytime soon."

            The hunters stared at the vet for a long moment, before Dean finally said, "Right." He paused, "What about a girl named Lydia Martin?"

The man nodded gravely, no longer smiling as he explained, "Death is rarely a friend."

            "God damn it!" Dean slammed his hands against the desk between them as he leaned towards the vet. Sam could hardly blame his brother for the frustration- their best lead had come up with no answers.

            The vet's eyes seemed to smile as a small quirk of his lips gave him away. Addressing Dean, he announced, "If that is all, boys, I'm afraid that the clinic is closed now."

"Are you kidding me?" Dean balled his hands into fists as he turned to stalk out. Castiel followed close behind, and finally Sam stepped into the doorway. He turned to the vet and tried to give him a smile that looked polite as he said, "Well, thanks for your time."

            Deaton nodded, but when Sam turned to leave, the man spoke, "You will both soon be in a difficult place. Remember," when Sam turned to look at him, the vet's eyes bore into his, "There is no need to burn down a forest for one rotten tree."

            What? The hunter stared at the man for a moment as he thought about what he just said; it felt like Sam had just eavesdropped on someone, hearing a key sentence, but having no context to place it in. Alan Deaton walked over to the door while Sam contemplated this. The hunter stepped outside, but turned to ask the vet one more question, but he was interrupted by the man, "Beacon Hills is a special place- if word gets out that there are Winchesters here then you might find yourselves a little overwhelmed."

            Before Sam could even register what the short man had said, the door was closed and the sound of a deadbolt being slid across the door could be heard. "Wait- how do you know who we are?!"Sam knocked on the door loudly, but the man didn't answer.

                        *                                              *                                              *

            Chris Argent stood just inside the forest south of Beacon Hills. Crimson painted the bark of a couple of trees, and there was a few splatters of blood on the ground, but the moss had already soaked some of it up. Limbs were strewn around the area, the flesh of the corpse's torso had chunks missing and deep gouges that still trickled small amounts of blood.

            The hunter had checked in with Chris a few days ago, just passing through- he didn't even mention that he'd be hunting anything. He had been young, only twenty six. The hunter ground his teeth together as he thought about it, wishing that he could have known what the kid was thinking when he came out here alone.

 _Crack_.

            Chris snapped the safety off of his gun as he stared into the darkness. He wasn't the only one in these woods. Trees shifted slightly with a soft breeze, giving the illusion of serenity, but then Chris heard another crack- behind him this time. Spinning, he saw a flash of movement dash to the right. He turned with the movement, trying to make sure that it didn't get behind him.

            The monster leapt out of the woods at him but years of hunting had Chris' reflexes pushing him to the right, he made sure to stay on his feet with his eyes on the creature. It was feet taller than himself- had to be at least fifteen feet tall, and it's eyes glowed with a dull sickly yellow- much paler than the wolves'. It bared it's teeth at him, showing off the dangerous fangs it hid behind it's rotting lips.

            Surely he wasn't looking at what he thought he was looking at. The terrain was wrong, the hunting style was wrong, the sluggish attack was wrong- it couldn't be-

            A roar resounded through the forest, and the creature immediately leapt back, tilting it's head like it was listening. Chris fumbled with his gun, getting two shots out, but the beast slipped back into the darkness without even a flinch from the wounds. The only evidence that it was ever there was the rapid beat of Chris' heart and the body ripped apart around him.     

                        *                                              *                                              *         

            When Allison Argent walking into the Hale house she expected the pack to be there, after all, where else would they be? Well, she thought, I wasn't wrong. One thing that Allison had learned about werewolf packs was that they all had their own tasks in the pack- not that they were forced to take upon themselves- just tasks that they naturally filled. It was one of her favourite things about the pack, she could depend on everyone to fulfill their usual duties.

            Once and a while the pack surprised her though, because sometimes people were unable to complete said jobs. Sometimes a pack member got sick, or had too much homework, or, apparently, got kidnapped by hunters, and was unable to stick to their routine, and when that happened usually someone else in the pack filled that position.

Today, the pack was  failing at filling those positions- although they looked like they were trying very hard to succeed.

            Stiles was curled up on a mattress in the middle of the floor with a wolf curled around him like a protective shadow. Allison nodded at Derek as his illuminated blue eyes peeked open at her, and after determining that she was well, he rested his eyes again as he gently nuzzled gently into the back of Stiles' neck.

            The rest of the pack, however, was not the peaceful scene that her alpha and emissary were. At the kitchen island Lydia was pouring over books in the corner, rapidly mumbling to herself in Latin and jotting down notes that Allison suspected Lydia probably wouldn't even be able to read later.

            Kira was making placated gestures towards Erica and Cora, who were growling softly at one another. Erica clutched a coiled up dishcloth and Cora's hands still had stray soap bubbles as a few drops of water fell back into the sink. Malia and Jackson were both covered in flour and clearly fighting over the measurements as they glared at each other, while Isaac was patiently waiting in front of the waffle iron. He held a ladle up like he was armed with it as he impatiently tapped his foot, keeping his eyes on Malia and Jackson.

            Boyd and Scott were missing, so Allison could only assume that they were running the perimeter, and Peter wasn't there, which was the only normal thing about the scene before her.

            Stiles mumbled slightly under his breath as he shifted uneasily in his sleep. The large wolf lifted his head with a sharp look towards the kitchen and Kira relayed his message with a soft, but sharp, growl at the others. The pack quieted and went back to their tasks, and only then did Derek lower his head back down to the mattress again.

            The ex-hunter took one more glance around the room as she tried to equate it with the normal pack-night-morning-after events. Usually Stiles and Derek were the only ones awake before her and she would either wake up to their whispers or the soft sizzle of the waffle iron as they kept companionable silence. Stiles always made the waffles in the mornings while Derek leaned on the counter to keep him company.

            Allison lightly closed the door behind herself and took her shoes off. Stiles must have been exhausted if he slept through this much, she realized. He had been a much lighter sleeper since the Nogitsune had attacked. Now though, he was still sleeping and it was almost nine in the morning.

            She was just trying to decide how she could chip in this morning when her phone buzzed lightly in her pocket. Allison quickly answered her phone, trying to speak loud enough for him to hear her without waking Stiles, "Dad?"

"Allison are you with the pack?" His voice was grave- his hunter voice.

"Yes. They're almost all here." Allison glanced around the room, meeting the eyes of concerned wolves. Her father said, "Keep close to each other, and tell Derek that he shouldn't run patrol tonight. I found out why the Winchesters are here." He paused, taking a deep breath before explaining, "There's a Wendigo near Beacon Hills."


	14. Intertwining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Stiles tries to cast a protection spell on Derek and accidentally casts a spell much stronger than either of them expected, the duo has to relearn everything that they've learned about protecting the pack, because the old methods won't do anymore. With the infamous Winchesters coming to town Derek hopes that the hunters will just drive through town, but the pack has never been good that laying low.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I hope that you're enjoying the story, and I love hearing your feedback in the comments! My favourite Lydia moments are with her and Stiles together, so I kind of struggled writing her alone- I guess I just like the dynamics when Stiles does most of the talking and in those moments when Lydia speaks it's important, vital, emphasized information, while half of Stiles' is rambling. Does that make sense? I don't know. Anyways, I guess what I'm trying to say is that I hope that she still feels in character to you guys? Hope you enjoy the chapter, let me know what you think please :) 
> 
> Littleredemissary.tumblr.com is my tumblr, if you'd like to come and say hi! :D

**Chapter 14: Intertwining**

            The Hale pack emissary woke up to chaos; the werewolves all seemed to be yelling, Derek was quickly moving away from Stiles with a loud growl, and Lydia was demanding answers. Stiles curled in a little bit closer to himself, wishing that he could sleep for a couple more hours. Apparently that wasn't going to happen though, and he glared up at Derek to express his distaste for the sudden movement. Derek who had just turned back human and was in his full naked glory. Well, if Stiles wasn't sporting morning wood before, he sure as hell was now.

            Blushing, Stiles shifted to try to hide his affliction, but it didn't matter- apparently the room was too focused on Allison. She was on the phone, looking at Lydia in a way that seemed too deliberate- like she was very carefully not looking at Derek's naked body.

Well, she has eyes, Stiles thought, of course she thinks he's attractive.

            "My dad said that he ran into a wendigo- they hunt at night usually, and usually live high in the mountains." She paused, listening again, and then repeating back for the humans in the room, "It is acting strange, not hunting like it usually would, and instead it retreated at the howl of a wolf."

            "That doesn't make sense. I have read up on them before; a wendigo is a type of monster- they don't think like we do, they think like predators." Stiles mumbled. Allison looked down at him, her eyes flickered to Derek very briefly before settling back on Stiles as she blushed slightly but the hunter kept her voice steady, "No, it doesn't make sense. She thinks that someone is controlling it."

            Erica began to growl low in her throat, and slowly the rest of the wolves began to chime in. Lydia frowned and spoke just above the growls, "That's why the hunters are here."

            Stiles bolted upright and snapped his fingers as he turned to quickly look at the banshee, "You're right. The Winchesters aren't here for us, they are here for the wendigo- they just don't know it."

            Malia walked down the stairs which she had apparently gone up at some point and threw a pair of sweatpants at her cousin's head. Most of Stiles was relieved, and he resolved to ignore the part that wasn't, and so while Derek quickly pulled up the sweats, Stiles turned to look him in the eyes and said, "We need to tell them."

Derek immediately spun to snarl at him, "No. You're never going near them again."

            The human watched him for a moment, and then carefully lifted one eyebrow before crossing his arms and saying, "The hunters need to know what is out there, and that the pack isn't responsible for it. None of the wolves can go, and obviously Allison can't go- they don't know that she is in the pack. I am the only logical decision, right Lydia?"

            Stiles smirked at Derek's glare, but his confidence faltered at the length of time that it took for Lydia to answer. Derek's glare eased slightly and his mouth twitched, looking dangerously close to smug. The emissary inhaled deeply before repeating, "Right Lydia?"

            When he turned to look at her, Stiles could see that she was frowning at him and lightly tapping her pencil on the table. The pack was still and quiet, watching the interaction, and finally Lydia announced, "It is too dangerous for any of the wolves to go, but Stiles, you can't go either."

"What! I'm the only one they know the identity of, and they know that I'm not a wolf!"

Malia interrupted, "They almost killed you!"

            Jackson let out a deep growl that Stiles recognized as agreement, and then Erica chipped in a loud snarl. The emissary briefly wondered how he had gotten to the point that he could differentiate their snarls, growls, and grumbles from one another, and how now he could often determine the emotion behind them as well. Stiles wondered if his sense for their howls had gotten as good also, but the pack rarely howled so he didn't really have a lot of practice in that area.

Isaac interrupted Stiles' thoughts, "They almost killed us all- they want to kill us all, Stiles."

            The human set his jaw and balled his hands into fists as he addressed his pack, "They weren't going to kill me after they found out that I was human! They just so happened to almost get me killed when they were trying to kill all of you..."

Huh, Stiles realized, that wasn't exactly how he wanted phrase that.

            Lydia closed her book and tucked her pen into her purse before standing and announcing, "You and Derek have to stay here where it is safe, we don't know how much more you will be able to handle. Jackson, Malia, go and find Scott and Boyd, if Chris thinks that the wendigo is too dangerous for small groups then we need to come up with a plan first. Isaac and Cora, you two stay here just in case Derek and Stiles get attacked. Allison, can you go and talk to your father about the wendigo, and what the best way to prepare for it is?"

            Allison Argent nodded and told her father that she would be right over, and then she tucked her cell phone into her pocket. The kitsune gave Lydia a strange look and then asked, "What about us?"

"We," Lydia said with a coy smile, "are going to search the town for the hunters, and then I am going to talk to them while you are my backup nearby."

            Stiles shook his head, "No way! They don't know that you are in the pack, it's too dangerous. Lydia, you aren't human either, what if they want to kill you too?"

            The banshee ignored him, staring at Derek instead. The alpha's gaze didn't waver, and instead he gave her a firm nod. Stiles shot a hurt look to Derek before looking back at Lydia, "No, Lyds, you can't get hurt. I can't let you get hurt. They could kill you!"

"They won't be the most dangerous thing that I've ever faced, Stiles." Lydia walked over and crouched in front of the emissary. Resting her hand on the side of his face in a strange show of affection, the banshee's eyes softened and she said, "You are always taking care of everybody else, but right now it is time for us to take care of you, okay?"

Before Stiles could respond, Lydia stood and walked out of the front door in her four inch heels with a swish of her skirt, flanked by Kira.

                        *                                              *                                              *

            Sam Winchester was happy to get out of their motel room, there was something about third wheeling everywhere that he went that wasn't very relaxing. Seriously, Sam thought to himself, the more time that Dean and Cas spend together, the less subtle they are. Surely they are the only two who don't see the blossoming affection for one another.

            In an attempt of escaping his third wheel fate for a couple hours, Sam had relocated himself back at the coffee shop in order to do some research on Dr. Alan Deaton. The man was strange enough that he had to be more involved in all of this than he let on.

            He could have been there for a couple minutes, or maybe an hour or two, Sam wasn't sure, when movement caught his eye. He glanced up from his back corner booth to see a familiar young woman with ruby lipstick and a face framed with loose copper curls. An expensive looking purse dangled from her forearm, and she wore a floral sundress with a black jacket over it. A hand was propped on one hip as she slowly rose one brow, a silent demand that Sam recognized immediately. He hesitated before asking, "Would you like a seat?"

            The eyebrow dropped down to become even with the other as a smile slipped on her face, but the smile seemed to have little to do with him, it seemed more self-satisfied. The girl set her purse down and tossed her hair over her shoulder as she slid into the booth across from him. Sam was desperately trying to place her, but he couldn't seem to remember where he had seen the young woman before.

            Sam watched her expectantly, but she didn't address him immediately, instead the girl fussed with the skirt of her dress before drawing a cell phone out of her purse and beginning to type away with soft clicks of her manicured nails.

            The hunter stared for another moment or two before slowly turning back to his laptop and flicking through some articles on the internet. He wasn't finding a lot outside of the man's veterinarian career. It took a few minutes, but finally the young woman set her phone down on the table with a quiet tap and stared at him.

Sam watched her for a moment before closing his laptop.

            She seemed to be taking him in, her eyes flittered from his hair to his face to his clothes and then his laptop. After assessing him, the girl rested a hand on the table and gently tapped her long nails rhythmically as she said, "The Campbell name is renowned in the hunter world, like the Argents, they have been building their reputation for generations."

            Sam could feel his own eyebrows pinch together, she had read up about the Campbell side of the family? The copper haired girl continued, "The Winchester name is different from theirs. The Winchester name was made by your father, and now you and Dean."

            The hunter tilted his head slightly, but tried not to seem too intrigued by the confident woman before him. She continued, "The Campbells are known for being dedicated to their cause. The Argents are known for believing in their code. Do you know what the Winchesters are known for?"

Sam shook his head slowly, his eyes not leaving her hazel eyes. Abruptly her fingers stopped tapping as she said, "Bloodshed. They are known for being merciless. For hunting unrelentlessly, leaving no room for escape or redemption."

            Sam ignored the sinking feeling in his stomach, they had saved countless people from monsters. He wouldn't be shaken up by the woman in front of him. Instead, he focused on his response, "We've saved countless human lives."

"Not everything supernatural causes death, Sam Winchester, even if it seems to shadow some of us."

            "Why didn't the alpha come?" Sam asked, partly because he was curious, and partly because the person before him oozed all of the confidence that he would have expected of an alpha- it he hadn't seen him the other night, then Sam would have thought that she was the alpha.

            She tossed her hair over her shoulder again as she announced, "You aren't worth the trouble." The woman narrowed her eyes, showing the first sign of emotion since she sat down as she tensely said, "He has been busy taking care of Stiles, thanks to your brute of a brother."

            Sam leaned forward now, feeling his brows pinch together. The hunter spoke quietly, "Dean didn't shoot the kid, just the alpha, so what happened? Why did he..." He trailed off, vividly remembering the picture of the boy dropping with a horrific scream.

            Apparently the young woman was finished with that line of thought for the moment, because instead of responding she announced, "Why are you in Beacon Hills?"

"The werewolf attacks," Sam explained, gesturing towards the window, "there are people dying, we don't just stand by when people are dying."

"Werewolves aren't the ones killing people in Beacon hills." She spoke with such confidence that Sam struggled with his response for a moment, but thankfully the red head continued, "But we can tell you what is."

"Okay," the hunter placated, "if it isn't the pack of werewolves running around Beacon Hills, then what is it?"

            The woman's eyes narrowed at him, and she clenched her jaw tightly for a moment before relaxing it in a way that seemed very deliberate. Her lips pursed very slightly before she leaned forward and leveled him with a glared as she said, "You hunters can run around Beacon Hills for as long as you'd like, but the longer you try to kill us, the longer it will take for us to deal with the actual threat. This isn't about you. This is about the deaths of our neighbours, friends, and family. Beacon hills is _ours_. The people here are _ours_. The pack is _ours._ If you are going to continue to prevent us from protecting what is _ours_ , then we'll do whatever we have to in order to resolve the issue. Understand?"

 

_"Don't talk about them like they are some kind of mutts. My pack is better than that. They're better than you. If you are ever so much as in the same room as one of my pack mates,_ _I'll kill you_ _."_

_Both hunters stiffened at the rant, and shared a glance at each other. Sam could tell that Dean was thinking the same thing that he was. Tentatively he took a deep breath and asked softly, "Your pack?"_

_"Yes." The kid's eyes were fierce, "My pack. They're_ _mine;_ _I'm theirs. I'll die before I tell you where they are."_

 

            This woman spoke with the same protective intensity that Stiles did when Dean had insulted the pack of werewolves that he ran with. Sam found himself leaning away slightly as he struggled to meet the fiery eyes of the girl. He shuddered slightly at the intensity, but managed not to break the eye contact, instead he nodded stiffly.

The dangerous atmosphere slowly dissipated, and the girl smiled too sweetly as she annnounced, "Good. Then let the negotiation begin."

"Negotiation?" Sam repeated.

"I didn't appoint myself to this task just to let someone else negotiate later- it's better that  you and I handle this," she swallowed, pausing as her eyes shifted to stare past Sam as she mumbled, "Well, it would be better with Stiles and I."

"Look, um..." The hunter trailed off.

"Lydia." She offered.

            Right! Sam reminded himself, she was one of the names who apparently spent a lot of time with Stiles. With that noted, the hunter continued, "Lydia, I need to talk to Dean and Cas before I can promise you anything- I'm not even sure if I believe you or not."

            The woman's eyes rolled and her voice was disappointed as she explained, "You do believe me, but you aren't sure if your brother will. I don't need to be a werewolf to pick up on your lies, Samuel."

"Sam," he winced at the use of his full name, "It's just Sam."

            The hunter took a moment to notice that she didn't refer to herself as a wolf. Exactly how many humans did this pack have? He had never heard of such a thing- how were they all still alive?

            She began to speak again, "Well Sam, I didn't appoint myself to this task so that one of my pack mates could come in here and try to threaten you into obedience, and I didn't approach you in relatively neutral territory so that you could go back and get convinced to kill us anyways. We are talking right now because you and I are the ones who think through our decisions. Your brother is obviously a 'shoot first ask questions later' kind of guy- it's okay," She assured when Sam opened his mouth to protest, she pressed on, "I know the type."

Sam stared at Lydia for a moment as he wondered if she was thinking about her alpha- something about the man reminded Sam of Dean. He shook his head to get himself back on task and asked, "What do you want?"

Her features softened as the Lydia explained, "I want my friends to be safe. Human, werewolf, and otherwise. That's all that any of us want."

            The duo stared at one another silently for at least a minute, she was staring at him with a set jaw and steady eyes. Sam wondered if it was something that she had learned from the werewolves in her pack- canines considered looking away a sign of weakness. They were both very still, and as the hunter stared into the hazel eyes he thought that he might have been imagining it, but something in her seemed desperate. Afraid, even.

"Alright, let's negotiate."


	15. Intertwined

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Stiles tries to cast a protection spell on Derek and accidentally casts a spell much stronger than either of them expected, the duo has to relearn everything that they've learned about protecting the pack, because the old methods won't do anymore. With the infamous Winchesters coming to town Derek hopes that the hunters will just drive through town, but the pack has never been good that laying low.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, hope that you've all been doing well! My life is insane, but I am just finishing my finals and then I have a couple new courses to give me grief right after that (but at least it'll take some time for finals to hit again). Hope that you like the chapter, and I kind of hurried with it, so hopefully there aren't too many mistakes. Let me know how you like it! :) I know that I've been bouncing around perspectives even more that usual lately, but I plan to slow that down and settle down in Derek and Stiles' more again soon.

**Chapter 15: Intertwined.**

            Castiel waited patiently for the Winchesters to finish their disagreement; both brothers were both gritting their teeth, but they had finally quieted down enough quiet for Castiel to speak up, so he asked, "When will we be meeting with the pack?"

"I agreed that we would meet a few of them at that coffee shop in town today at 2." Sam threw Dean a glance as he finished speaking, and Dean responded with something that sounded like an affirmative grunt.

All they had to do was wait now, Castiel was good at waiting- he had spent a lot of his life doing it.

            When Dean parked the Impala, his brows were set low above his eyes, and his hands were clenched tight on the wheel. After turning the car off, the group sat for a moment before Sam opened his side and got out first; Cas and Dean followed suit.

            As Castiel closed his car door, he looked up to see Sam already approaching a small group of three- two women and one man. They were whispering to one another, but when the dark haired girl saw Sam walking towards them she shook her head at the other two.

            The man turned, and Castiel recognized him as the alpha. His hands were shoved in his leather jacket pockets, he didn't have a full beard, but he wasn't unshaven either, and when he turned to square his shoulders to the hunters he placed himself directly between the girls and the approaching group.

            Sam stopped before him with Dean at his side, Castiel stood back slightly, but within an arm's reach of the Winchesters. The younger hunter nodded to the alpha, whose only response was for his eyebrows to sink a little lower on his face. The redhead to his left rolled her eyes as she broke the silence, "Hello Sam."

"Lydia, good to see you again." Sam acknowledged, and then Dean spoke, looking to the other side of the alpha, and addressing the other girl, " Allison- I didn't realize that the Argents were associated with werewolves."

            Castiel wasn't exactly good with this kind of thing yet, but Dean's rigid body and tense voice made Cas think that it was meant to be more than just a comment, but the girl didn't fight back. She simply said, "Nous protégeons ceux qui ne peuvent pas se protéger."

"We protect those who cannot protect themselves." Sam translated after a moment.

            Tinny music blared suddenly, and the alpha winced and then he rested his eyes for a moment as he took a deep breath; he clenched and unclenched his jaw before finally reaching into his pocket and pulling out a phone.

_But I'm only human, and I bleed when I fall down. I'm only human, and I crash and I break down-_

            The alpha cut the sound off and lifted the phone to his ear, and then spoke into the phone, "You're late. They just got here." The man listened for a moment before cutting a glance at Dean and saying, "I haven't decided yet; it'd probably save us a lot of problems in the long run..." The older hunter tensed at his words, and his hand twitched towards the back of his jeans, but he didn't touch his gun. With a grunt, the wolf hung up and tucked his phone into his pocket.

            Within seconds a blue jeep quickly swerved into the parking lot and came to a sudden stop and Stiles wasted no time tumbling out of the vehicle. Castiel wouldn't call it a graceful exit, but the human didn't appear to be going for grace as he flailed his arms to regain his balance and then rushed to their groups apologizing while he ran over.

            Finally he stopped between the hunters and the pack, ignoring the animalistic growl that hummed out from the alpha, and Stiles threw an amused glance at the man and then he held out a hand to Sam, "Glad to hear that you can see logic."

            The hunter took the boys' hand, and they stared sternly at one another for a moment, and then Stiles smiled kindly and warned, "If any of you try to betray us, I will personally arrange for a kanima to paralyze you and then I will wrap you up and give you to Peter as a birthday present."

            Castiel stared at the boy before them; Stiles cared for others in a way that reminded him of the Winchesters- unrelentlessly, unconditionally, and dangerously. Just as Dean would do anything for Sam, Stiles had made it very clear that he would do anything for any one of his pack members.

Castiel stared at the boy and he couldn't help but hope that the alliance worked out.

 

            *                                                          *                                                          *

            Allison Argent had been trained to take in details, memorize them, and look for patterns. That is probably why she was so caught off guard when she noticed what was going on between Stiles and Derek.

            As the two groups walked into Cuppaccino, the local coffee shop, Allison watched as Derek stood between the pack and the hunters at all times- but especially between them and Stiles. At first she disregarded it, after all, Stiles had just been kidnapped by them, why wouldn't Derek be nervous about this. However, soon it became apparent that there was more than simple worry going on.

            The hunters sat on one side of the table, while the pack sat on the other, nobody sat in the connecting section of corner booth. Stiles tried when they first sat down, but Derek grabbed his arm, pulling him out and sliding in first to let Stiles scoot in next to him instead.

            As the two groups spoke about the obvious rules for the alliance ("No killing or hurting us." "No turning or killing _us_."), Allison paid particular attention to the alpha and the emissary.

            Derek bought their side of the table coffee, to which Stiles gave him the softest, most compassionate look that Stiles usually reserved for pet stores or elderly couples in the park.

            "No fire." Derek grunted.

"That's the easiest way to kill a wendigo!" Dean protested, and Stiles slammed his hands on the table and glared at the hunter before enunciating,

"No. Fire. Got it? I don't care if you and I have to rip this monster to pieces with our bare hands- if Derek says no fire, then there will be _no fire._ " At this, Allison saw Derek's hand squeeze lightly on Stiles' thigh before retreating back to his own space.

When Derek's cappuccino came, he let Stiles sip off at least half of the foam with a fond stare until Stiles turned to look at him, then Derek quickly shot his gaze back to the hunters.

"No bringing any other packs into this. We don't know if we can trust you- never mind somebody else."

            At around three Stiles quivered slightly and rubbed his arms with his hands, but before he even had time to let his hands drop back underneath his thighs, Derek already began to take off his leather jacket. He didn't even offer it to Stiles, simply hung it over the emissary's shoulder. The human in question hummed and leaned in a little closer towards Derek. It was unreal, how had she never noticed it until now?

"Allison?" Derek was looking over at her as he continued, "anything to add?"

            She nodded before turning back to the Winchesters and getting down to business. Allison made eye contact with Sam as she said, "No other hunters. If we don't recruit other packs, then you don't recruit other hunters, not now, and not after you leave. You run any weapons or poisons by us before using them just in case it has adverse effects on the wolves. And if someone in the pack is grappling with the thing, you do not shoot unless Derek or Stiles tells you that you can."

"I get that you," Dean waved a hand at Derek, "Are the 'alpha' or whatever, but what is it with the kid? Aside from overprotective and a kid with a low pain tolerance you don't seem so special- no offence."

            Derek's entire body was tense as he glared at the hunter, but before he could respond, Stiles beat him to it. The human explained, "I'm the pack emissary. It basically means that I am an advisor who specializes in everything from human-supernatural relations to making breakfast after pack nights."

            Dean nodded, but Sam picked up the questioning as he drummed his fingers on the edge of his own cup of coffee, "That sounds pretty important."

Derek nodded slowly before threatening, "Hurt him again and we'll all rip you to pieces."

            Allison heard Stiles chuckle and mumble under his breath, "Probably not helping the peace-talk, buddy."

            The rest of the table wasn't listening, however, and instead Sam took a sip of his coffee before asking, in a voice sounding insincere, "So what was he doing in the middle of nowhere so late at night?"

            Stiles and Derek both tensed suspiciously quickly, and Allison knew that she wasn't the only one at the table who had been dying to know the same thing. She exchanged a quick glance with Lydia who obviously noticed their behaviour. Stiles was the one to mumble out something that sounded like a response, "Just needed to get some air and wandered a little too far from the yellow brick road- no reason for worry about me anytime soon, dude."

            Both hunters nodded, but nobody at the table looked convinced by Stiles' explanation, and Derek was still as tense as her crossbow. Allison didn't know what had happened between them, but she knew that she would figure it out.

                        *                                              *                                              *

            It had been easy to pretend that Stiles had forgotten about the thing with Erica. He hadn't seen Derek and Erica physically close since the night that he'd been taken, so Stiles felt like he'd been handling the situation pretty normally- denying that anything was wrong.

            Unfortunately he knew better. When Allison asked what he had been doing out on the road that night Stiles knew that he hadn't played it off well. The excuse was stiff, unforthcoming, and too deliberate in the delivery- nobody had to have super hearing to catch that one.

            Everybody played along and didn't bring up the obvious lie, which Stiles was thankful for, however at the same time he knew that he had to emotionally deal with this. Erica was with Boyd, maybe he should have said something by now? Or should he talk to Erica first to give her the chance to talk to him first- but Stiles didn't want to talk to her about it. He was in a conflict of interest, and he knew that she could easily call him on it.

            Stiles was shaken from his thoughts by the table getting bumped as the angel stood from the booth, followed by the rest of their group, and then Stiles also slid out of the booth.

Derek gave Dean a stiff nod and offered a hand to shake, "We'll talk again. Tomorrow we look for the Wendigo."

The hunter seemed just as unhappy as the alpha, but he reached out to shake his hand regardless, and then he added, "Noon, here."

            Derek gave a bob of his head, and then he and the hunter dropped their hands to their sides and that was it. Meeting adjourned.

            Stiles glanced beside him to see Allison look away quickly. Apparently she had been staring at him, but now she was determinedly evaluating Derek's every move. It was suspicious and Stiles narrowed his eyes, but then his group was turning to leave, so he let it go for the time being and followed his pack.  


	16. Brewing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Stiles tries to cast a protection spell on Derek and accidentally casts a spell much stronger than either of them expected, the duo has to relearn everything that they've learned about protecting the pack, because the old methods won't do anymore. With the infamous Winchesters coming to town Derek hopes that the hunters will just drive through town, but the pack has never been good that laying low.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think that you guys deserve a whole new level of grovelling that is impossible to achieve, so instead I'll skip right to it. Sorry that it took so long- I suck. It's been insane between exam prep, exams, and the long roadtrip home. Hopefully now I will be able to post more often, my goal is to be finished this story by the end of summer, but we shall see. Anyways, I hope that you guys enjoy, please leave a kudos and leave me a comment to tell me what you think/anything that you think I have missed or made mistakes on. Thanks so much to any of you who are somehow still reading this despite my delays <3

**Chapter 16: Brewing**

            Cuppaccino was a popular coffee shop with customers coming and going, but with the entirety of the Hale pack crowded around a collection of tables that the boys had pulled together the place seemed much busier.

            Beacon Hills was hot today- not hot enough for Stiles to take of his plaid over shirt, but it was a close call. He took another sip of his iced coffee and glanced around Cuppaccino again. He was sitting between Lydia and Scott and trying very hard not to look at Erica and Derek who were sitting beside each other across from him.

It was juvenile.

            Stiles was well past old enough to be able to handle this. After all, it might have just been a kiss, so he was being stupid. Steeling himself, the emissary forced himself to look at Derek- who quickly looked away, obviously trying to pretend that he hadn't been staring.

Huh.

Well that's interesting, Stiles mused.

            A bell chimed, and every wolf's eyes cut to the door as they stilled. Except Scott, he just turned and smiled while waving the hunters over. Sam's eyes seemed stuck on Lydia, and Stiles grinned in spite of himself- nobody could resist her. Lydia was a goddess.

            Sam, Dean, and Castiel took seats at the end of the table, they were closest to Isaac and Kira. There were a few moments of silent discomfort before the pack began to chat amongst themselves once more while Dean announced that he was going to buy them some coffees.

            Stiles watched the hunter walk away, and then he took a moment to look around the table. Jackson had slung an overly casual arm around Lydia as he stole a glance at Sam from the corner of his eye- apparently Stiles wasn't the only one to notice that she held the hunter's attention. Lydia was smirking to herself as she sipped her latté, clearly enjoying the jealousy. Derek's eyes snapped away as Stiles looked at him, which was once again suspicious, but the emissary told himself that he didn't have time to deal with Derek. He could talk feelings after the wendigo was dealt with. That sounded good, it would give him some time to mentally prepare himself.

            Erica was happily sipping some of Boyd's coffee, obviously still enamored with him, while Boyd was giving her that soft smile that was reserved for her alone. Cora and Allison were whispering about something too quietly for Stiles to hear, but they would occasionally glance towards Derek. Scott was telling Malia some kind of story- if his arm gestures and grin was anything to go by, and Kira and Castiel were listening to Sam and Isaac talk.

"-'d never heard of them before last night; none of our documents had any recorded sightings. You know of one?" Sam was saying.

Isaac replied with a shrug, "Well I did. Jackson used to be a kanima, but then there was true love's kiss and the fairytale ending, so it's all good now."

"Oh," Sam's eyes cut to Stiles, "really?"

            Well crap. Stiles thought to himself, the kanima's out of the bag now- apparently Isaac just spoiled his kanima venom threat. Oh well, he shrugged to himself, Stiles could easily come up with a new threat.  

            Dean returned, setting down a coffee in front of his brother and an iced coffee in front of the angel. When he sat down, the hunter spoke loudly, "So, if not fire, than what?"

            Silence descended, and the gazes flittered between Stiles, Lydia, and Derek. Stiles took it upon himself to speak first, "Decapitation would be a good method, probably. It's all about getting it in the right position. We have to find an ideal place of attack and lead it there- if it chooses the location of the fight, then it'll have the advantage."

            Lydia frowned and said to Derek, "Have you asked Peter about it? He has the greatest access to information."

"He hasn't been around much." Derek said.

"Good. He's creepy and it's uncomfortable when he's around."Stiles grumbled.

            The hunters were just watching with scrunched eyebrows, obviously trying to piece something together, but they didn't appear to be succeeding, Stiles figured. Lydia's hands clenched on her mug as she snapped, "He needs to be around more often."

Isaac made a face and leaned forward to meet her eyes, "Why? Nobody likes him, and he doesn't really help out with fights very much."

"Because," Lydia looked like she might be starting to get a headache, "When he isn't around then he's scheming. No good comes of it when Peter is scheming."

Stiles scoffed, earning himself a glare from Lydia until he clarified, "Peter's scheming is not absence-exclusive. He schemes when he's around too. He's always scheming."

            A low growl rumbled from across the table, and every wolf's shoulders hunched minutely as they all looked in Derek's direction, none of them meeting his eyes.

There was a moment of silence, and then Dean whispered, "What just happened?"

Castiel was the one who answered, "Derek did not like what they were saying."

"I got that." the hunter rolled his eyes before clarifying, "What I mean is why did everybody flinch- some of you are human, right?"

            Derek bared his teeth at Dean for a brief second before explaining, "They're pack. It's instinct. Humans have instincts, they've just taught themselves not to react to most of them. Humans who are members of a pack are much more in touch with that side of themselves."

            Surprised, the emissary glanced around the pack and for the first time he realized that Lydia, Allison, and himself were, sure enough, all mimicking the wolves' body language- when did that start to happen?

"Right." Dean sounded a little uneasy, "Well back to the matter at hand. The wendigo."

                        *                                              *                                              *

            Somehow the wendigo hunt involved everybody being split into groups of three and keeping the groups close enough that the wolves could always hear at least one of the other groups. Because the hunters had almost killed Stiles, it was decided that they weren't to be anywhere near him. That is how somehow Stiles Stilinski got stuck with the two people that he would be least comfortable with for a long forest walk- Erica and Boyd.

            The thing is, Stiles loved Boyd. He'd been making a halfhearted effort to converse with the dude for years, however the kiss incident was still haunting him, and he didn't know whether he should tell Boyd what he saw or not.

            Stiles also loved Erica. She made geeky references with him and traded comic books with him. She was the catwoman to his batman. She was funny, tough, and compassionate when she wanted to be.

But...

            Ugh. Stiles squeezed his eyes tightly to try to clear his head. When he opened them, the blonde was staring at him curiously; she said, "Are you going to start hurrying up anytime soon?"

"Why do you guys always forget that I'm human? Do I _look_ like a were-creature? No. If I was a were-anything I would be a were-klutz or something. Which would still not make good time through a forest."

            Boyd stared at him, apparently taking in his short rant and making Stiles regret the entire thing immediately, the emissary rubbed the back of his neck and decided that the best course of action was to avoid eye contact. Meanwhile Erica rolled her eyes and waved her arm, encouraging Stiles to continue forward.

            It only took a few more minutes before Erica slung an arm around Boyd's shoulders and announced, "Batman seems unnaturally quiet, wouldn't you say?"

Boyd glanced at Stiles before nodding solemnly.

"Something must really be bothering him. I've never seen him this quiet before." She pressed. Boyd made a half hearted shrug at her comment, but apparently that was the only prompting that she needed.

            The blonde grinned before releasing Boyd and throwing both of her arms around Stiles' neck and demanding, "Come on Batman, what's got your utility belt in a twist? You know that you can tell us. It's important for pack mates to be honest to one another."

Stiles couldn't help but scoff, but it was too late to take back the sound- Erica narrowed her eyes and stepped back to prop her hands on her hips, "What was that sound for?"

"Nothing. It wasn't a sound. It's fine." Stiles said.

Erica shook a finger at him, "No, that was a sound. A sound that implied hypocrisy. Spill."

            No. No no no no no no no no. Stiles didn't want to have this conversation. Stiles wanted to avoid this conversation. Some conversations just shouldn't be conversed. He threw Boyd a panicked look, but the man just stared on, unimpressed, and then lifted a lazy eyebrow as if to convey, _Well? Get on with it, we both know that you are going to tell her eventually._

Damn. Boyd's eyebrow was right.

Erica could break almost anybody.

I can do it, Stiles thought, I can keep my cool and somehow salvage this interaction.

            Instead, the human started to speak at a speed that he didn't even know that he was capable of, "I was just worried about you and Boyd, I mean you guys are great for each other- perfect even! And honesty is important and so is trust and loyalty- not that I'm saying that you aren't loyal or trustworthy, but you and Boyd are a couple and you and Derek aren't a couple, that I know of- unless you guys are all a couple, which is totally cool. Perfectly fine. Totally perfectly fine. Cool. Whatever works for you guys I guess, I mean you'd definitely be the hottest polyamorous couple- I mean threesome- that I've ever seen. Probably that I ever will see, and oh God. You're looking more and more concerned and now both of Boyd's eyebrows have been raised and I'm just going to shut up now."

            Stiles was almost gasping for breath and tried to remember what the hell he had just said out loud because he was absolutely sure that he hadn't been thinking about polyamory before he opened his mouth.

            Erica's jaw had dropped, and after a few moments of silence she burst into a laughter that echoed through the woods around them, while Boyd's eyebrow raise had begun to morph into a twisted look that closely resembled pain or maybe an expression that someone might get if they heard a freshman announce that they looked up to Jackson.

            While the blonde werewolf tried to get herself together and stop laughing hysterically, her boyfriend clarified, "We're not dating Derek," when Stiles opened his mouth to interject, Boyd continued, " _Or_ anybody else."

A beat passed before Stiles nodded and stuck his hands in his pockets, "Oh, okay. That's cool too, I guess."

Erica finally managed to say, "What's this about, Stiles?"

He hesitated, glancing at Boyd, but what the hell. It was about time that Stiles got some answers, "You and," he flailed his arms around towards the forest, "Derek. Kissing. With your legs all," his arms flailed again, "wrapped around and sexy and... but you're dating Boyd so I just," With a lack of a better alternative Stiles finished his sentence with a strange combination of a shrug and a head twitch.

"Oh my God." Erica's eyes rolled back so hard that Stiles wondered if people could sprain something that way, and she growled, "That wasn't- you weren't supposed to- ugh. You two are insufferable!"

            Stiles was lost, but instead of asking Erica what she meant, he paused. Boyd had an eyebrow raised at Erica before asking, "What?"

"I kissed Derek."

His eyebrow dropped.

"And wrapped my legs around him."

Boyd sighed, "Again?"

Stiles snapped his head towards Boyd, "What do you mean _again?!_ "

            The couple ignored him, and instead Erica's eyebrows pinched together as she whined, "I just wanted them to get their heads out of their asses! It was supposed to help clear up the tension- not make it worse!"

"I can't help but feel like my ass is one of the asses that you are talking about, so I feel like maybe I should be allowed to know what's going on." Stiles interrupted, but again they ignored him. Instead, Boyd tilted his head slightly to the right in some kind of silent communication and Erica looked away with a huff as she grumbled, "You're right, I'm sorry, I did make it worse, and I shouldn't have interfered."

He nodded while Stiles looked back and forth between the two, trying to figure out what just happened, "Nothing," he said to himself, "I understand nothing."

            A howl rose in the distance, and both wolves snarled as they both looked east. Stiles followed their gaze as he realized that he had reflexively crouched at the sound, "Who is it?" The emissary asked tensely , already knowing the answer.  

            The wolves shifted and set off in that direction, and as all three began to run, Boyd said, "Derek."


	17. Timber

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Stiles tries to cast a protection spell on Derek and accidentally casts a spell much stronger than either of them expected, the duo has to relearn everything that they've learned about protecting the pack, because the old methods won't do anymore. With the infamous Winchesters coming to town Derek hopes that the hunters will just drive through town, but the pack has never been good that laying low.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Evil laughter cackling in the distance*   
> Enjoy the chapter, and please let me know what you think! ;P

**Chapter 17: Timber**

Allison was with Scott and Dean.

Kira was with Isaac and Castiel.

Jackson was with Cora and Malia.

Boyd and Erica were with Stiles.

And Derek was with Sam and Lydia.

            Stiles reviewed the teams in his head while he ran after the two wolves, and he was surprised by how well he kept up- who knew that going out for runs almost every day would help this much?

            Derek had howled, but he didn't feel any pain, so it felt like a safe bet that Derek wasn't the one that was hurt. It Sam was hurt, Dean and Castiel could easily turn on the pack- and the whole situation could turn into an all out war, but if Lydia was hurt...

No. Stiles pushed himself harder, trying to clear away his thoughts, Lydia couldn't be hurt. He wouldn't stand for that.

            A phantom pain ripped through Stiles' leg, making him grit his teeth. He willed himself not to make a sound- the werewolves needed to get to their pack mates, not deal with his imaginary pain.

            Minutes passed, and Stiles was wheezing more than he should have been. Derek's pain continued to plague him as time passed, or at least, he thought it was Derek's pain, based on how quickly it was gone.  Stiles didn't let it slow him down until he broke into the clearing with the rest of the pack, because he just got into the clearing in time to see a tall, sickly, monster shove it's long human-like fingers into Derek's chest.

            Stiles scream felt like it ripped right through his vocal chords, and he barely kept consciousness as he collapsed to the ground. Roars of the wolves rose up around him, and he heard someone asking something, but all he could think of was the burning in his chest. He managed to open his eyes as he gasped for breath, and he watched as every wolf threw themselves at the creature. It was sluggish in its attempt of escape- it yanked it's hand from Derek's chest with another intense pain stabbing through Stiles' chest, and then it stumbled back, but not fast enough to escape the pack, who snarled as they tore into it.

"W-wait," Stiles' voice was practically gone, "I need to-" a weak cough wheezed through his lungs, and a sense of hopelessness hung over him. Stiles hung his head as he felt the pain from Derek's wound slowly lessening, and just as he began to give up on catching the pack's attention a roar vibrated through the forest; Derek snarled when the pack froze. he glanced  at the wendigo before looking back to his pack and saying, "Stiles said to wait."

Every eye in the pack, and the hunters' group as well, turned to look at him.

            Stiles cleared his throat, and winced at the pain of doing so, "I have to look at it." Sure enough, Stiles realized, his voice was hardly a whisper. He had lost his voice. All of the werewolves took a step back from the carcass, and Kira slipped underneath Stiles' arm to help him limp over to the group- apparently feeling Derek's pain took out a lot of strength.

The beast was face up, naked, and very, very, dead. Stiles breathed through his mouth and said, "Turn him over please?"

            Jackson and Malia both stepped forward first, efficiently following Stiles' request. When the monster had its back exposed Stiles stepped forward, letting Kira go as he fell to his now bruised knees beside the beast. There were tattoo-like designs in his back, but upon closer inspection Stiles noticed that it was more than just a tattoo.

"Branded with blood, fire, and dirt rubbed into the flesh." His voice was barely more than a whisper, and it kept cracking, but not even Jackson commented on it. Stiles must have sounded worse than he thought. The emissary frowned at the flesh before fumbling in his pocket and taking out his cell phone. He snapped a picture and then nodded to himself, "I better look this up. Unless," Stiles looked back to the angel, "Castiel, any thoughts?"

            The angel's eyebrows pinched together in thought before he said, "It's ancient magic. Blood magic." He stepped forward to get a closer look, and after staring long enough, and still enough that Stiles was starting to get fidgety, Castiel finally said, "Some of the runes are used in possession spells, but it's not quite the same."  

The man continued to squint at the corpse, and after a couple silent moments, Stiles said, "There was something wrong with it."

            Derek nodded as he stared at the monster, "It didn't have proper reflexes. It's attacks were alright, but it didn't defend properly, and it was like it took too long to think about what it was going to do next."

            The hunters both exchanged glances, and Dean added, "We've fought a lot of wendigos before, and this one just wasn't right. It didn't use the strategies that wendigos use, it didn't fight like a wendigo, and it didn't hunt like a wendigo."

            The group stared down at the monster for a few moments, and then Allison broke the silence, "I'll call my dad."

            Derek shook his head and then began giving orders, "Stiles, text that picture to everybody and then go home to reseach. Scott and Isaac go down to Deaton's and ask him what he thinks of the markings and behaviour. Allison, you might as well just drive home to talk to him, take Lydia with you. Kira take Malia with you to your house and check into whatever documents your parents have. Cora take Erica with you to our bestiary and try to find something useful. Boyd and I will run through the territory and see if we smell anything off. Jackson, you go with Stiles."

Jackson sneered and said, "Why should I have to spend any time with this loser?"

"Stay in groups tonight. There might be danger tonight." Derek said, his face at his most natural scowl.

            Lydia propped a hand on her hip and said, "Derek, you shouldn't be in any kind of action- what if something happens and you get hurt. You know what Deaton said about Stiles."

"I'm fine," Stiles insisted, "My psychological well-being has always been subpar, it isn't going to get any worse than it's already been."

            The banshee rose one perfectly sculpted eyebrow as if Stiles had somehow proved her point. Derek growled to himself before caving, "Fine. Cora go with Boyd and Erica will come with me. If you sense something, _do not engage_. Come straight back."

            Everyone nodded, and Sam added, "We'll go back to the hotel and try to dig something up."

The alpha nodded. "Tomorrow, same place same time."

Dean nodded, and with that everybody took off- some with supernatural speed, and some without.

                        *                                              *                                              *

            The Cretin was sitting in the corner in a chair that he had brought upstairs from the kitchen ("Ugh, are you kidding me? There's no way I'm sitting on your bed. This whole room reeks of every jerk off session you've ever had."), while Stiles was sitting in front of his computer with several ancient texts from Deaton open beside him.

            His knee bounced up and down while he chewed on the pencil in his mouth, and Stiles ignored the growl that The Cretin made.

Enhanced senses + Cretin + Stiles' restlessness = Angry Cretin, apparently.

            Stiles let the pencil drop from his mouth and he read, "There have been no reported cases of wendigos showing any signs of morality or humanity, despite their human lineage. They are often cannibals from ancient times, or failed attempts of corpse reanimation, occasionally there have been reports of wendigos being under a weak state of possession. The reports did not come from reputable sources, and are highly unlikely because wendigos seem to lack any kind of soul or equivalent."

            The Cretin didn't respond, which made Stiles slam his hands down on the desk and pivot his chair, "That could be it!" He waved a frantic arm towards his computer screen, "'A weak state of possession'. Some of the runes looked like they could be from possession. That's it! It was being possessed after all!"

The Cretin didn't even look up from his phone.

"Are you listening to me, asshat?" Stiles demanded.

The Cretin grumbled, "I've never listened to you before, and I'm not going to start now, loser."

"You don't think that this is helpful? Fine then, what have you found? You've been on your phone for hours!" Stiles looked at his watch and winced. Apparently it was 3AM, good thing that his dad was on night shift.

            "Texting Lydia," The Cretin looked up so that Stiles could be graced with the presence of his pretentious eye roll, " _obviously_."

"You've been-" Stiles threw his hands in the air, "for the last 7 _hours_?!"

The Cretin looked back down at his phone, "Apparently."

"But the wendigo-"

"Nerd crap."

"We're talking about saving our lives."

"You're all probably just looking too deep into it. The thing is dead, let it go."

"You're an idiot." Stiles said, with a special kind of awe that he saved for the truly foolish.

The Cretin didn't respond.

            Stiles shook his head before swiveling his chair back towards his computer and getting back to work. He tapped his foot, jiggled his knee, chewed on his pencil, and then began to tap his other foot. Stiles was vaguely aware of the clock ticking across the room, and of the gentle snores that began to whisper out of Jackson at some point of the night.

            When he finally found his breakthrough, Stiles jumped to his feet and spun to yell at Jackson- but the werewolf was strewn across the chair with his head tilted back and a strangely peaceful expression on his face.

            Stiles tried to calm his excitement as he looked back down at one of his notebooks that he had taken notes in during one of Deaton's lectures. Most of the designs that had been carved into the wendigo's back were there on the page in front of him. They were ancient Celtic runes, that did indeed mean a variety of things that translated very closely to possession, reanimation, and something that translated a little bit more vaguely into something like hypnosis.

            The trick was that they were a type of runes that only worked by people who had breathed hellfire. Which, Stiles thought to himself, _has_ to mean somebody who has died.

"Hey," Stiles whispered, "Jackson, c'mon man, wake up."

            The werewolf shifted slightly in his seat with a warning growl low in his throat. Stiles froze, waiting several minutes before daring to move. When he did, the wolf did nothing.

            With unreasonably tense muscles, Stiles grabbed his notebook and his keys off of his desk, and, not for the first time, he let himself imagine how his conversation with Derek was going to be.  

            _"Stiles that's great," Derek's smile was soft._ So soft, in fact, that Stiles had only ever seen it featuring one of these daydreams.

_Strong, muscular arms wrapped him in a warm embrace and his alpha breathed gently into his hair- almost as if he was going to kiss the top of the emissary's head, "We'll talk to the pack tomorrow."_

_Day-dream Stiles nodded, smiling into Derek's chest as the alpha made that comforting rumble that he does sometimes. After a few moments of stillness, Derek said, "It's late, and you've been at this for hours. Come upstairs, stay with me."_

_"Stay with you?" Day-dream Stiles asked._

_"Please?" Derek smiled down at him._

 

            Stiles heaved a wistful sigh and then looked over at Jackson. There were two things that Stiles knew that he should do, either 1. Try to sleep and tell everybody tomorrow, or 2. Wake Jackson up and tell him to get his furry-ass in the Jeep.

            Instead Stiles did 3. Left to drive to Derek's alone, because come on- Derek wouldn't ask him to stay if Jackson was tagging along. Chances were that Derek wouldn't anyway, but he was even less likely to if Jackson was tagging along, and so Stiles jumped in his Jeep and drove to the renovated Hale House.

            By the time he unlocked the door and pushed it open, Stiles was bouncing with nervous energy- so much that he briefly wondered when he last took his Adderall. The house was dark, but that meant nothing- Derek was a well-known creeper, after all. Instead of leaving, Stiles grinned into the darkness and announced, "Derek, your favourite human is here and he happens to know that that uncle zombie-werewolf who has been known to have mysterious connections to mind control is almost definitely the creepy bastard who was controlling the wendigo."

"Well that is quite a mouthful." A figure with an ominous smirk melted out of the darkness, and Stiles could feel his guts churn as he clamped his jaw shut.

            The figure stepped forward and Peter Hale's eerie blue eyes flashed in the darkness as he asked, "Please, tell me more."


	18. Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Stiles tries to cast a protection spell on Derek and accidentally casts a spell much stronger than either of them expected, the duo has to relearn everything that they've learned about protecting the pack, because the old methods won't do anymore. With the infamous Winchesters coming to town Derek hopes that the hunters will just drive through town, but the pack has never been good that laying low.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can we please take a solid moment to acknowledge that this only took me like 10 days to get back to you, and I know that that doesn't sound like much, but I am working full time and then I have another job on the side and also I have no time in my life?  
> Thank you. I appreciate that :P 
> 
> Anyways, thanks so much to everybody who is reading this! I really hope that you are all still enjoying this- I am trying to fit in little bits of humorous banter here and there, but it is what it is I guess. O-o  
> Let me know if you see any mistakes/what you think! :D  
> Thanks for reading! :)

**Chapter 18: Storm**

            First light was already beaming in through the teenager's bedroom window, which made Derek pause and look up from the book in his hands. He pinched the bridge of his nose and rested his eyes for a moment, it was early and the sleepless night was definitely nipping at his heels.

            The alpha looked up and towards the soft, rhythmic breaths beside him. Erica had tried to stay up with him, but she had fallen asleep on the ancient text that she was reading hours ago- Derek had to sneak it out from under her because he knew that she had drooled in her sleep in the past. He could hardly afford to let such rare knowledge get ruined by a little bit of saliva.

            He glanced back at the window before grunting quietly to himself. He needed to get back to the Hale house and despite the blonde's relaxed expression, Derek knew that he had to wake her up. After all, it might not be safe to leave her alone.

            Derek stared at her for a few more moments. Come on, he urged himself, just wake her up. You're an alpha werewolf, you will not let the idea of a grumpy teenager stop you from protecting the pack, and right now, to protect the pack, you have to get back to the Hale House.

But, a dark corner of Derek's mind whispered, You could just leave her here- after all, she gets grumpy enough that she could probably kill _anything_.

He quickly dismissed the thought.

"Erica."

Nothing.

He scowled.

"Erica."

Her head twitched to the left and she let out a small groan.

"Get up. It's time for us to go back to the house." Derek rested a hand on the back of her neck, making the blonde growl low in her throat, but the alpha growled louder and bared his teeth in response.

Her growling quieted, but Erica rolled her head to the side to glare at him instead. Derek carefully rose one eyebrow, silently hoping that she wouldn't try to rip it off, but he stood his ground. There was a long moment, and Derek waited.

Waited.

Waited.

Finally she let out another loud growl and pushed herself away from her desk as she stood.

Derek let out the breath that he was holding and walked towards her bedroom window, "Alright, I'll meet you at the car."

            Derek sent a mass text to the rest of the pack while he walked around the corner where his car was parked- he didn't want Erica's parents getting suspicious, after all.  Without waiting for a response, Derek started the car and within moments Erica walked around the corner- looking slightly less murderous than she did a few minutes prior.

            The drive was quiet, save for Erica demanding that he make her breakfast at the Hale House, to which Derek nodded. It wasn't until after they got to the clearing that they saw the baby blue jeep sitting in the drive.

"Such an overachiever." Erica sighed, but Derek could hear the fondness in her tone; he fought a smile. Derek quickly parked beside Stiles' jeep, turning it off and stepping out, but he heard... nothing.

No incessant one-sided conversation.

No quick heartbeat.

No... nothing.

            Derek threw an uneasy glance at Erica who returned the expression, she didn't hear anything either. For a moment Derek hesitated, almost not wanting to know, but it was _Stiles_.

"Stiles?!" He ran into the house, and that's where he smelt it.

Fear.

Panic.

Pain.

            Derek didn't hear his snarl, so much as he felt it rip out of his throat. Distantly, the alpha realized that he had transformed into his beta form, as did Erica beside him. No. He needed to calm down. Derek took a deep breath, trying to anchor himself, but he was struggling. Deep breath in- deep breath out, just like Stiles did during a panic attack.

It wasn't working.

            New approach, Derek decided as his pulse began to pick up with the panic of his emissary's disappearance. He looked down at his hands- one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, and ten. Just like Stiles used to anchor himself in dreams.

            Damn it, he needed to calm down. He was pacing back and forth now, and he could tell from Erica's expression that his eyes were glowing red. He needed his anchor. He needed his anchor. He needed Stiles.

            The alpha never meant to make the emissary his anchor. In fact, it was a horrible idea for reasons like this specifically- but somehow while they were saving each other's lives over and over again for the last few years, his instincts had begun to play connect the dots.

What was his anchor before Stiles?

            He was vaguely aware of his claws digging deep into his palms as Derek struggled to remember. The blonde beta was fussing about something, gesturing to his hands with panic in her voice, but he couldn't listen- his mind not accepting the language that she spoke. Instead, Derek growled loudly at her until she submitted. Tilting her face away and averting her eyes the beta finally let out a small whine at his outburst, only then did Derek go back to ignoring her. Blood hit the hardwood floor beneath him, somewhere in the back of his mind, Derek was aware of the increasingly frequent dripping sounds.

Anger. Anger used to be his anchor.

            Anger at himself. Anger at Kate. Anger at whoever wrote up this sick fate of his. The anger was there, he was more than angry enough, but still Derek struggled. A low growl bubbled from his throat as newcomers approached the house and the blonde whined again before running out towards the newcomers.

            In the end it was Cora who helped. The alpha growled at her when she got too close, but the beta knew him well enough to handle the aggression.

She sang.

            The melody was one that his mother used to sing them to sleep with. A lullaby for the Hale children that she also sang to them during the full moon when they were struggling with control. It was enough; at first it felt like his mind stuttered for a moment, and then Derek began to feel his mind begin to calm and revert back to his senses.

            The silence afterwards felt heavy, and Derek fought the urge to wrap his sister in his arms. He wanted to fall to his knees and give himself time to hate himself for letting Stiles out of his sight. For letting Stiles ever get involved in this, but there wasn't time.

 

With a heartfelt clap to his sister's shoulder, Derek finally calmed down enough to take control, "I'm fine."

She nodded, "Good."

"But Stiles-" He began before hesitating.

"We'll find him."

"How?"

"We just have to find Peter."

            Peter? Derek paused, taking a deep breath in and really opening his senses for the first time. Sure enough, underneath the panic and pain of Stiles, there was the familiar scent of his uncle.

Not again.

            Derek didn't want to kill anybody, and he definitely didn't want to kill his uncle (again), but he didn't know what else to do when things like this kept happening.

            He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the thought- first thing was first. They had to find Peter and Stiles- or at least, that's what he thought before Jackson walked into the Hale house.

            For a moment there was perfect stillness as the beta and the alpha stared at each other. Every wolf in the room was silent, holding their breaths, and then Jackson said, "It wasn't my fault."

And all hell broke loose.

            None of the beta's were fast enough to hold Derek back from leaping across the room, despite their attempts. The alpha threw his forearm against his beta's throat and shoved him against the wall with a snarl that was usually reserved for the enemies.

            Cora was pulling on Derek's arm, begging him to let Jackson go, while Erica was yelling at someone over her cell phone. A soft purr of vehicles in the distant was beginning to get louder.

"I accidentally fell asleep in the middle of the night! It's not my fault that he didn't wake me up!" Jackson gasped out.

Fierce alpha jaws snapped close to Jackson's nose before Derek managed to growl out, "You're a _werewolf_ , how did you sleep through _Stiles_ leaving?!"

"He is pretty clumsy..." Cora mumbled, temporarily pausing her unsuccessful struggle with Derek's arm.

"Get him off of me!" Jackson managed to say.

"Did you just... squeak? Erica, did that sound like a squeak to you?"

"It did sound fairly 'squeak'ish, to me, Cora."

            The threat of baring his teeth at his fellow betas was unsuccessful for Jackson, as it was difficult to be intimidating while an alpha was pinning him to the wall. Erica stuck her tongue out at him while Cora rolled her eyes.

            It was the normalcy of it all that helped Derek eventually calm himself enough to release his beta, letting Jackson collapse onto the floor. Derek wanted nothing less than to walk away and start trying to find his uncle and Stiles, but there was a little voice in the back of his head that told him that there was something that he needed to do first.

That voice sounded painfully like Stiles', probably because it was directly from an emissary lecture that he once gave the alpha.

_"Say it with me Derek. **A-L-P-H-A**. **A** is for **Always**. Always looking out for each other- always pack. **L** is for **Loyalty.** We are all loyal to you, and to one another- and you are loyal to us. **P** is for **Pack.** Alpha, Beta, Kitsune, Hunter, Human, Spark, Banshee, were-coyote, and whatever shows up next. We'll always be pack. **H** is for **Hope**. Never give up hope; we'll find a way to make it through. And **A** is for **Affection**. As in you need to actually show affection for your pack because otherwise they won't feel like they're actually part of your pack. Wolves are highly tactile, as are Stileses and basically everybody else. **A-L-P-H-A.** "_

            So instead of running off in a random direction and hoping to find Stiles and Peter's stale scents, Derek dropped to his knees in front of Jackson. His hand grabbed onto the warmth of Jackson's neck- the back of his neck this time- and the alpha pulled him forward until their foreheads touched. At first the beta stared at him with wide eyes, and then after a few moments he slowly relaxed and rested his eyes. His heart rate calmed with his breathing, and his scent began to shift back into its more natural Jackson-ness.

Derek didn't stand up until after he felt sufficiently assured that the beta had been comforted and knew that he wasn't in trouble with his alpha.

            When he did stand up, Derek looked around the entrance room to see that the rest of the pack had shown up as well as the Sheriff, Chris, and Melissa, who had that determined look in their eyes that demanded to help. Even the Winchesters and Castiel were there, standing behind the Parents with grim expressions.

Derek nodded to the room and everybody nodded back.

It was time to find their pack mate.


	19. Bend Before you Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Stiles tries to cast a protection spell on Derek and accidentally casts a spell much stronger than either of them expected, the duo has to relearn everything that they've learned about protecting the pack, because the old methods won't do anymore. With the infamous Winchesters coming to town Derek hopes that the hunters will just drive through town, but the pack has never been good that laying low.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, this is a wee bit shorter than usual (I'm so sorry!!) I have like 8 family members visiting and in my house right now and most of them haven't told us when they are leaving? So it's a wee bit stressful around here. Fun, but stressful. Anyways, I hope that you enjoy! :D 2 or 3 chapters left, and then a preview for my next AO3 story! :o Ooooohhh, how fancy.

**Chapter 19: Bend before you Break**

_It's just a dream._

_It's just a dream._

_It's just a dream._

            Stiles woke up to his hands. They felt like he was doing handstands on a bed of needles, and through the tears blurring his vision, Stiles held them open in front of him- _one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten._

"It's not a dream. Oh God, it's not a dream." The words came out sounding like far away sobs, and through his fingers Stiles could see two eerie blue eyes glowing through the darkness.

                        *                                              *                                              *

Several days passed; Peter and Stiles' trail was cold. Every day seemed to make the Sheriff look more like he wanted to put Derek down, and every day that passed made Derek want to let him even more than the day before.

Nobody was taking it well.

Jackson hardly said a word, and he spent all of his time with an exceptionally cranky Malia running the perimeter, trying to catch a scent.

Lydia refused to speak to anybody, and Derek suspected that she was afraid that if she opened her mouth she would scream.

Isaac was twitchy and had dark bags under his eyes that suggested that he wasn't sleeping properly.

Allison hadn't looked so obsessed with anything since Gerard tricked her- except this time she was with the pack and not against them (Thank God).

Erica seemed to have permanent red rings around her eyes- obviously from constantly crying.

Boyd had stepped up to try to take care of the pack a little in Stiles' absence, but every once and awhile he would just stop and stare into the distance for a few minutes.

Cora snapped at everyone and was having trouble controlling her shift.

Derek was too.

It was time to do something drastic.

It was time to protect his pack.

            After a trip to Deaton's, a trip to Stiles' house, and a run to an art shop downtown, Derek was ready. He needed somewhere quiet, and he needed some spare floor space, and so when he was ready the alpha drove down to the loft that he still owned.

                        *                                              *                                              *

"Why haven't you killed me yet?" Stiles asked, and apparently Peter was feeling generous because he slid over a plastic cup filled with water; the human drank it eagerly.

"Don't you realize yet Stiles? You're too valuable to kill. The rest of the pack is weak, _disposable_ , but you, _you_ are full of potential. Possibility. Power." Peter's eyes flashed as he spoke, and Stiles swallowed hard as he tried to get his teeth to stop chattering. He didn't know where they were, but the walls were stone and the floor was dirt, so he could only assume it was some kind of cave.

"I'd never help you. I'll die before I join your side, you-"

            Peter interrupted him with a harsh growl, and the werewolf bared his teeth, "What if I chain Scott up here with you, hm? Or Lydia, or my nephew?" He barked out a laugh, "You'd do anything for any of the pack. Even someone like Jackson."

            The emissary glared at him, but the expression lost a lot of his weight as his stomach growled. With a dark chuckle Peter turned towards the exit and announced, "Think about it, if you willingly join my pack, then I'll welcome them into our pack. If you defy me, I'll kill them all, starting with Jackson, and finishing with your dear, sweet, alpha so that he can watch his new family die all over again- one at a time. Just like I watched mine die."

            Stiles snarled, but the werewolf left without acknowledging him. This was his chance, Stiles knew that he needed to help himself get out of this, with or without his ancient spell books.

            Okay. Stiles was holding an empty plastic cup, and wearing his jeans, but his pockets had been emptied. His white t-shirt didn't have any pockets or other valuable assets other than the heat it provided for him, and a quick glance around the cave showed that he could see exactly none of his belongings. Great.

            Next on the list, the emissary took stock of what the cave looked like. It was small with one candle flickering across the room on a medium sized flat rock. The whole pack wouldn't even fit the room that he was in, and Stiles had a shackle around his left ankle that was attached to the stone wall of the back of the cave; the chain gave him maybe three feet of movement.

Fantastic.

He gnawed on his lip as he tried to brainstorm.

            When Stiles asked Deaton about spells without supplies, the emissary just gave something akin to a fond smile and shook his head before saying, "We're emissaries, Stiles, not wizards."

            The idea of being a wizard and only needing a magic wand was pretty appealing to Stiles as he glanced around the dim cave. He had his spark, his clothes, a plastic cup, and a mystical one-way connection from Derek.

            The emissary faltered for a moment- he had a mystical connection with Derek Hale through a powerful Celtic God, the Griffin, and an equally mystical red tattoo that said Griffin put on his left arm. He turned his arm over and realized that sure enough, the previous henna was still bright red and deeply ingrained in the dermis of his skin.

With a breath, Stiles let his eyelids fall closed as he began to chant sacred words.

                        *                                              *                                              *

            It took another full day for Derek to prepare the spell, and optimistic wouldn't be a word that he would have used to describe himself at that point- more like desperate. He couldn't afford to be wrong- even though Deaton had told him that without a spark he'd be unable to do anything.

            But apparently the Deaton couldn't do anything either, so there Derek sat in front of a poor drawing of the Celtic griffin on the floor with a henna combination of the dara knot and the shield knot drawn onto his own right bicep brachii. The henna turned out strangely well, despite being drawn with his off hand, but instead of marveling at it, Derek swallowed hard and took a swig of water before opening to the bookmarked page of Stiles' spellbook.

Thankfully he had written the pronunciations carefully beside the Latin when he was learning, because without it Derek would have been lost. The alpha chanted the words carefully, and eventually he began to fall into something like a trance, then the world faded.

_"Remember, you cannot let the knots untie._

_Infinity knots will keep the leather cords tied."_

_In the back of his mind, Derek felt a strong pull from far away, as if he was fighting gravity to stand where he was, but he forced himself to ignore the feeling as he began to tie the leather in his hands._

_"Ancient Celtic Gods speak English?" Derek wasn't sure why this is what stuck out to him._

_The Griffin's booming voice answered, "Language is nothing to us. Time is nothing to us. Mortals are usually nothing to us."_

_"Usually?" The alpha asked._

_"Some are too entwined in the fates to ignore. Fate demands that some be heard."_

_"Yes, Stiles. He's missing! Peter-"_

_"The spark is strong, but that is not why the fates listen to him- although they have shown some favor towards him."_

_Derek didn't know what to say, but after a moment the Griffin explained,_

_"The fates cannot ignore the alpha who has saved the broken and will lead the Beacon to glory once again."_

_"I can't save anyone- I just get everyone killed." He was suddenly aware of how heavy words were becoming- almost like they held a physical weight._

_"The rising alpha. The rising pack. The rising Beacon."_

_Derek shook his head, that wasn't why he was here. Instead he tied the last infinity knot,_

_"I need Stiles."_

_The breath was knocked from Derek's lungs and as everything faded away all he could hear was_

_"So shall it be."_

           Derek woke to a pounding headache and ten worried pairs of eyes staring down at him. Malia was the first to speak, "You smell different."

"Stiles." Derek coughed, and when he spoke again his voice was a little stronger and he clutched one hand to his chest, "I can feel Stiles."

            Pulling up the right sleeve of his Henley, Derek and the pack ogled the henna that he had drawn, which now appeared tattooed on his skin and was now the golden whiskey colour of Stiles' eyes.


	20. A Familiar little sap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Stiles tries to cast a protection spell on Derek and accidentally casts a spell much stronger than either of them expected, the duo has to relearn everything that they've learned about protecting the pack, because the old methods won't do anymore. With the infamous Winchesters coming to town Derek hopes that the hunters will just drive through town, but the pack has never been good that laying low.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, there should be only two more chapters left now. I thought this was going to be the climax, but noooooo, the characters wouldn't let me. Fine. Next chapter will be big then, and I'll try to post it soon. My goal is to be finished this by September 5th, so I hope that you're all ready for this! :D

**Chapter 20:  A Familiar little sap**

            The pull of the moon was like a background noise that Derek had gotten accustomed to- such as the splattering of rain during a storm. When he closed his eyes, the alpha could feel something that felt much like the moon- it was more subtle, but foreign in a way that the moon had never been.

It felt like how his childhood lava lamp looked- fascinating, calming, and mesmerizing. It felt balanced. It felt right.

And then it smashed.

Suddenly panic rose, and Derek gasped for breath as he clutched for his chest. Words murmured somewhere far away from him, "-ic attack. Hey, listen to me-"

            Everything was dizzying, but after a few minutes the sensation faded back into the background- not into the calm sensation of lava-lamps, maybe more of an unpleasant low-boil of water.

"Stiles." Derek fought the shift as he ran a hand through his hair.

"What about him? Is Stiles okay? Derek!" Scott was yelling now, his jaw was so tense that Derek marveled at how well he was learning to control the shift. The question made Derek rest his eyes for a moment and try to get a little more in touch with the feeling, and after a moment he explained, "He's okay for now; I wouldn't say he was scared anymore, more like angry."

"How do you...?" Allison trailed off, her head tilted slightly.

            Derek shook his head, there would be time for that later- more importantly, he had to figure out where Stiles was. "Come on," Derek pushed himself up, "We have to keep looking."

"But we've looked everywhere!" Erica turned her face away and wiped a hand across her face; Derek pretended that he didn't see.

"It's different now." Derek took a deep breath and felt for the boiling emotions deeper within him. With the security of feeling his anchor within him, Derek began the change into his alpha form.

_This is all my fault. Stiles, I'll find you._

                        *                                              *                                              *

 It didn't work.

            "Sure, all of a sudden the ancient god is too busy to help me out when I really need it, hey? I see how it is." Stiles crossed his arms and pouted for about half a second before swallowing and throwing an apologetic glance to the ceiling, "I didn't mean it, oh god, please don't smite me or something."

            When nothing happened, Stiles decided that maybe the Griffin just didn't hear him? Good, it was better that way.

            Suddenly a roar vibrated through the cave, and all Stiles had a chance to do was think, oh shit, before Peter's hand was wrapped around Stiles' neck and forcing him against the wall.

            Stiles' panic attack was immediate. It felt like the world shut down around him, and only himself and Peter's flickering wolf eyes existed; red. Peter's eyes were red. He had found another way to become an alpha somehow. Stiles' heart was beating so fast that it almost felt like it was going to start double-lapping itself. Peter was talking, saying something about the bite. Stiles tried to focus.

"-such a loyal packmate, you've always been so much more in touch with your instincts, unlike the children who Derek bit. And after _I_ bite you, you'll be loyal to me without question. You'll be my pack, not Derek's. Mine."

"C-can't, if you b-bite me then I w-won't be an em-missary or a sp-spark anym-more." Stiles managed, between gasps.

            Peter growled low in this throat, but his energy was definitely dialing down. As Peter's adrenaline began to decrease, Stiles' did as well. The new alpha took a moment to think before saying, "Doesn't matter. You'll be the perfect wolf. Smart, fast, can think on your feet, young, and loyal."

Stiles was finally starting to get a hold of himself, "It does matter. With my spark I can heal you, and not just myself. I can contact ancient gods to help the pack. I can put up protection spells and work with mountain ash to protect us. If you turn me then you won't have any of that. You can turn anybody into a loyal, strong, fast, werewolf, but sparks are rare. You'll never be able to replace my role in your pack if you change me."

            Peter's eerie red eyes stared at him for a long moment, and Stiles silently begged the universe that it hadn't been Derek that the monster killed. After a long moment, Peter nodded and took a step back, releasing Stiles from the wall.

"I didn't want to do this, Stiles. I tried to avoid it, but it's the only way."

"Do what?" Stiles took the bait.

Peter turned his back to Stiles and began to walk away as he explained, "Kill Derek. It's the only way to ensure your loyalty."

With that, the alpha left, and a couple minutes passed before Stiles was able to calm the anger in his chest enough to plan properly.

            There was only one other spell that Stiles could think of that only required blood that he could do. Unfortunately his success rate was non-existent because 'you're an emissary, Stiles, not a wiccan.'

Despite Stiles requesting it, Deaton wouldn't even say "Y'er a wizard, Stiles!"

            It didn't matter anyways. He had tried almost every night of his first year of emissary training- he had never been able to work the spell before, but he knew that he had to do something- damsel in distress didn't flatter him.

His only other options were the following:

He could try to dig through the floor with his plastic cup?

It would take too long- and probably wouldn't even work.

Maybe he could find a way to work some kind of new spell?

He would need materials, and it would be dangerous.

Breaking the chain would be a good start, but unfortunately there was nothing to break it with.

Perfect. He was stuck.

Stiles sighed before leaning against the cold wall behind him and sliding down until he was sitting. Apparently he just had to wait or convince Peter to let him go (Yeah right).

The moment that Stiles gave up was when he heard it.

It sounded almost like a thought- like he was thinking it, but it was just a little bit foreign too- someone else's voice, but it was so far away that it was hard to tell.

_This is all my fault. Stiles, I'll find you._

 It took a moment for his brain to catch up,  but then Stiles stiffened. Few words? Check. Sounds angry? Check. Blaming himself? Check.

That was definitely Derek.

            Stiles clenched his fist tightly around the plastic cup in his hand- he had to do something now. He took several deep breaths before standing up and mentally preparing himself. It was going to be worth the pain. Worth the pain. Worth the pain.

            The emissary drew back his arm and slammed the plastic cup into the wall and with a loud crack the plastic had three deep lines in it. Stiles did it again, then again, and finally the cup broke into three big pieces with a few smaller ones tumbling to the floor of the cave room.

            The sharpest piece was the only one that Stiles kept, he released the rest in order to fully concentrate on his next task. The emissary took a deep breath in, sent up a silent prayer to a couple of the friendlier Celtic deities (And the Griffin. After all, the god did slap a tattoo onto Stiles, so he must have some kind of connection despite ignoring him earlier), and then pressed the plastic against his palm and applied as much pressure as he could.

            He couldn't stop the whimper that escaped him, but Stiles managed to swallow it down quickly enough and practice some more deep breathing to center himself. A droplet of blood slid down his hand as Stiles mumbled,

_"Cometh spirit deep within._

_Share all of my glory, with it my sin._

_Cometh in blood and bone._

_Share all of my time alone._

_Cometh my heart's trueth form._

_Share all of my every sun and storm."_

            The blood dripped from his palm, and as it hit the ground, Stiles collapsed. For some reason it felt like the spell took energy from him like it had never done before. Time passed, but Stiles couldn't guess how much. With no daylight and no clock he had no idea how long it had been since Peter even kidnapped him.

            Eventually there was a small padding sound, and Stiles managed to open the eyes that he was resting. When he did, a small fox had just trotted into the room. It was fluffy, a bright orange, and it's eyes were a familiar golden brown. It sat, wrapping its tail around its body and watching Stiles.

"Oh my god."

"Oh my god."

"Oh my god, it worked! Yes!" Stiles managed to whisper his exclamation, and the fox's tail twitched.

"A fox. Hell yes, a fox. That is so much cooler than a dumb-ass frog or a black cat or whatever normal familiars are."

The fox stared at him.

"Your name is Cathasach? Well it's nice to finally meet you."

Cathasach tail twitched a little bit stronger as he stared at Stiles.

"I know, we don't have time for this. I need you to warn Derek. I need you to bring him to me, will you do that? Please?"

            It wasn't the Cathasach was telling Stiles anything. It was deeper than that. Stiles didn't hear Cathasach, like he heard Derek's voice earlier. It was more like Cathasach just understood his thoughts, and he understood the fox in the same way.

He had a _familiar_.

Ha, screw you Deaton. Who's a muggle now?

  Cathasach huffed out a breath and gracefully turned and walked away.

 _Be careful_. Stiles thought.

            The fox threw a lame look over his shoulder at Stiles without pausing his steps. As he stepped around the corner Stiles sighed and looked down at his bloody palm- the blood was mostly dry by now. He had done everything that he could, now all that Stiles had to do was have faith in his pack and wait.


	21. Underneath the Canopy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Stiles tries to cast a protection spell on Derek and accidentally casts a spell much stronger than either of them expected, the duo has to relearn everything that they've learned about protecting the pack, because the old methods won't do anymore. With the infamous Winchesters coming to town Derek hopes that the hunters will just drive through town, but the pack has never been good that laying low.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so excited. So. Excited. Seriously you guys, the last two chapters flowed so easily for me, they wanted to be written so badly! So here is the second last chapter, and the next chapter will be posted sometime this week, with an excerpt from my next story as well! I'm trying to get as much of a head start with that one that I can, so hopefully I'll be a little bit better at posting it in a more scheduled manner. I hope that you guys enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.

**Chapter 21: Underneath the Canopy**

            The pack was spread out in the forest in pairs, but no pair was too far away to hear the pair beside them. Derek breathed deeply, trying to focus on the feeling of Stiles within him, but the new bond was difficult to navigate.

            The forest was thick, and it was early in the evening, but the night always falls faster underneath the canopy. He inhaled deeply, but could only smell soil, pack, and the hunters that one of his packmates had called. Sam, Dean, and Castiel showed up promptly- apparently used to having to wake up and get moving in a hurry. Derek didn't stop to wait for them, but they caught up quick enough with the teleportation that the angel could pull off.

            The humans, and Lydia, were definitely slower, but Boyd was staying with them, and the hunters were with them- the girls refused to be left behind, and while Derek wasn't thrilled, he couldn't blame them.

            They had been making good pace for maybe forty five minutes when Derek and Jackson, who was running with him, saw it. They quickly dig their heels into the mossy soil until they slid to a stop. Jackson sneered at the orange fuzzy fox for a moment before throwing a confused glance to Derek.

            The alpha changed back into his beta form and nodded once to the fox, who inclined his head slightly without breaking eye contact. His eyes were like river water on a sunny day, or the light through a whiskey bottle, or Stiles'.

Stiles.

"Take us to him."

"Take us- Derek! Are you talking to this rodent?" Jackson sneered as he eyed the beautiful fox.

            Derek snarled at him and shot him a quick glare before howling a signal. The pack would follow him now, instead of searching blindly ahead. He nodded again to the fox, "Let's go."

Sure enough, the fox turned and ran into the forest.

They ran.

They ran and ran and ran and ran, but nobody gave up. This was _Stiles_.

Derek could even pick up the sounds of the Winchesters, and his pack members with them, still making good human time behind them. It was impressive, and Derek made another mental note that humans weren't to be underestimated- Stiles managed to show that to him on a pretty regular basis.

            Derek's excuse last time was that Stiles wasn't a human, he was a Spark (So what? He eavesdropped occasionally in his spare time). However Deaton, who had been present, shook his head and explained, "A Spark is still human. They are simply a human who-"

            Stiles interrupted the druid, "Deaton took over three hours to explain this to me the first time, so long story short: It means at least one of the Celtic Gods has basically vouched for me and might have a purpose for me. In return, they lend me some of their abilities. That's why I can do some basic spell work, but I'm not magical at all- I'm just borrowing a spark of someone else's magic fire, basically."

 

            Stiles was good at that. Explaining things easily so that everybody could understand. It made Derek wonder if he had ever wanted to be a teacher. He knew that the emissary believed that he could teach better than more of the professors that he had had, but Stiles had a lot of interests, and if the pack didn't find him soon then they might never find out what his greatest passion really is.

            Derek shook himself out of the thoughts. He needed to focus, the fox in front of him glanced over his shoulder like it was worried, and then he slowed his gait and looked around cautiously.

The alpha breathed in slowly, trying to scent Stiles, but instead he smelled... Peter?

            The moment that the smell registered, Derek felt his eyes bulge and he prepared to throw himself to the side as he sensed the other werewolf's presence, but at the last minute he stood his ground- after all, if he dodged then his uncle would accidentally strike Jackson with the hit instead. So Derek threw his arms up as a block.

            Peter dug his claws into Derek's forearm with one hand, and swiped for his guts with the other- but at the last second Derek knocked the offensive hand aside and leapt back from his uncle. Jackson snarled and threw himself at the older Hale.

            A few seconds later, Jackson hit the ground hard and huffed out a harsh breath. The fox was nowhere to be seen, obviously waiting out the battle. Good.

            Derek roared at his uncle, and in the corner of his eye he saw Jackson submit slightly, tilting his chin back minutely, which was the same response that he expected to see from Peter, but instead-

Instead red eyes flared back at him as his uncle roared back.

Bloody hell. Peter was an alpha again, and this time they didn't have Stiles here to throw some Molotovs at him. Fantastic.

            Peter slashed towards his chest, and Derek threw himself backwards away from the assault. His uncle snarled and followed, throwing himself against Derek. Claws bit into his arms, but Derek twisted to the side before Peter's teeth could get near his jugular.

Derek knew what he had to do, but how could he make himself and Cora the last of his family name? How could he kill his uncle, Peter?

Peter, who used to wrap his Christmas presents in layers and layers of duct tape and bigger and bigger boxes.

Peter, who used to give him piggybacks around the yard growing up.

Peter, who gave him advice on asking out Mary Williams in seventh grade.

Peter, who told him that he had to stand up to his older cousins when they picked on him.

Peter, who watched his family burn.

Peter, who suffered in the hospital for years because of him.

Peter, who killed Laura, and so many other people.

Peter, who he watched his pack murder in the worst possible way.

Peter, who came back to life before his very eyes.

Peter, who helped him get back on his feet.

Peter, who taught him about being an alpha.

Peter, who was a part of his pack.

Peter, who had always been there for him.

Peter, who had kidnapped Stiles.

Peter, who was trying to tear his throat out.

 

            A few years ago, Derek may have just let Peter kill him. It would have been better than being the last of his family alive, but not anymore. Now Derek had a stable pack. Now Derek had a new kind of family. Now Derek had Stiles.

            Derek threw his uncle off of him with a harsh snarl and rolled to his feet. Peter's grin was feral as he launched himself towards Derek again, the nephew braced himself, but instead Peter was knocked away by Scott who had thrown himself at the opposing alpha. It only took seconds for Peter to throw Scott off of him, but those seconds bought them time.

            Jackson was next, lunging to attack just as Malia leapt from behind Peter. The alpha grabbed Jackson upon impact and threw him against Malia, and the two fell to the ground with sounds of discomfort. As his back was turned, Allison shot a bolt straight into Peter's back. He snarled, snapping his head back to glare at her, and by that time Erica hit him hard in the side, ripping her claws through his flesh.

            Peter roared, knocking her aside brutally with a slash to her head. Erica screamed and fell to the ground, curling in upon herself. The force of Boyd hitting Peter was almost enough to knock him down, but not quite, and while Boyd definitely did some damage, Peter threw him aside as well, towards Jackson and Malia, who both dodged the heavy boy as they looked apologetic.

            Derek took an opportunity to knock Peter down, and he sunk his fangs into Peter's forearm that had been brought up for defence. His uncle snarled again, lashing out towards his side and pain flourished there. Peter rolled so that Derek was beneath him and slashed again at his side. Derek gasped, releasing the forearm, and as soon as he did Peter was thrown off of him with a blur of blonde hair.

            Erica was fierce, despite being a beta she fought with the raw energy that more alphas had. She snarled and slashed and bit and clawed and elbowed, but after a few hits Peter grabbed her by the throat tightly with one hand and dug his claw into her stomach before tossing her unmoving body aside.

A piercing scream immobilized everybody in the area. Even the humans slapped their hands to their ears in the wake of the Banshee's wail.

Derek's ears rung for many seconds after Lydia's quiet sobs began.

Erica.

She was laying there. Still. Not moving.

Boyd's howl was long, eerie, and empty.

            Isaac threw himself at Peter, snarling long before he hit him, but Peter knocked him aside easily as Isaac yelped in pain. Close after him, Cora hit Peter's legs, hard, and the alpha went down. Another bolt hit Peter in the arm because of his movement as he went down, and a gunshot fired making Derek's uncle wince as the bullet went through his gut. Cora slashed a claw through one of Peter's quads before he kicked her with his good leg, sending her crashing onto the forest floor. Another bolt Peter caught this one and threw it aside as he glared towards Allison who was crouched in a tree nearby. Kira dodged in and managed to stab Peter through the abdomen as he lay on the ground, and he growled at the feeling, but kicked up and hit her in the gut, sending her back and to the ground with a grunt.

            Peter managed to get the sword out just a Scott threw himself at him again, and then he threw the blade at Scott, the beta yelled out as the sword cut across his chest. Malia threw herself at Peter again, and the alpha snarled as she got a few hard punches to his chest, but he elbowed hard in the solar plexus, making her double over, and then he hammer fisted her spine, sending his daughter straight to the ground.

Derek growled, preparing himself for another go, but Lydia grabbed his elbow.

He snarled at her, but the banshee refused to let go. Instead, she set her jaw and hissed, "You can't get hurt- remember? Stiles. Every time you get hurt, Stiles feels the same thing- and Deaton was worried about his sanity."

"I have to. He's an alpha." Derek growled, even more angry now that he remembered that Stiles would be suffering from the same wounds that were slowly trying to stitch themselves together on his body.

"The pack can do it. Maybe not alone, but they can do it together, and they can do it with the hunters."

            Derek snarled, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end at the thought of hunters protecting his pack when he couldn't, but he couldn't come up with a comeback.

"Go. Find Stiles. We'll finish Peter off." She pleaded.

"I can't leave you." Derek grabbed her arm until she winced, then he released her like she was on fire.

"Stiles is frightened, in pain, and alone. He needs you. We'll hold out here."

Derek looked up at his pack.

            Malia was struggling to stand, Jackson, Isaac, and Scott were taking turns attacking Peter. Cora was trying to regain her strength, sitting beside Boyd and Erica. Erica still hadn't moved, and Boyd had the telltale black veins that meant that he was taking her pain. Good. If he was taking her pain that meant that she wasn't dead. Yet.

            Allison was carrying Kira's sword over to her as Kira pushed herself up until she was standing.

Derek looked up at the hunters.

            Sam was taking aim, carefully waiting for a free moment when his pack wasn't in the way. Dean was out of sight, presumably sneaking around to another side for a more diverse attack. Castiel was holding what looked like a strange stake and staring at the battle. Apparently waiting for something.

With a quick nod to Lydia, Derek turned away from his pack, and his instincts and ran.


	22. Time To Grow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Stiles tries to cast a protection spell on Derek and accidentally casts a spell much stronger than either of them expected, the duo has to relearn everything that they've learned about protecting the pack, because the old methods won't do anymore. With the infamous Winchesters coming to town Derek hopes that the hunters will just drive through town, but the pack has never been good that laying low.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it. Thank you all for sticking with me, reading, and helping edit my errors and throw in your thoughts along the way. I hope that you all enjoy how I wrapped this one up; I hope that I do it all justice. I am already six chapters into writing my new story called Let Fate Decide which is going to have a lot of attempts at humour while keeping a pretty tense storyline sometimes. Anyways, I have an excerpt from it at the end of this chapter and I am planning on posting the first chapter sometime this week. Please feel free to subscribe, like, comment, bookmark, and most of all message me on tumblr!! I love hearing from new people and I would love to get some prompts! HereBeAwkward.tumblr.com is where to find me! :)

**Chapter 22: Time to Grow**

            The fox appeared within moments of Derek leaving the fight. It dashed into his vision and took a sharp turn, leading him right, then left, then uphill, then right again. Around the lake, up again, left, up, up, up, and finally, _finally_ , it began to slow.

            The creature looked back at him, as if to make sure that he was keeping up. Derek didn't have time to be sarcastic with the little woodland creature, but he did have time to doubt himself again for a moment.

Did he make the right choice? Leaving the pack alone, without an alpha to help defeat Peter? What if Peter had more backup, besides the Wendigo that they had already killed? What if this fox wasn't related to Stiles at all, and was actually just a woodland creature with coincidence-y whiskey like eyes?

What if he was about to lose his entire pack again?

 

The fox stopped outside of a hole in the mountain.

            Derek peered in, it was dark, but nothing that his red alpha eyes couldn't see in. It was a little bit small, he could fit, but it would be a tight one, so instead, Derek took a deep breath and let himself change.

With four paws on the ground, the pull of the mysterious Stiles feeling in his chest, and the fox to lead him, Derek entered the hole.

            It turns out that it was a cave. It was much bigger after the first couple of turns, and the further that they went in, the more that Derek realized that he could smell Stiles.

He ran faster, beside the fox now, instead of behind him.

            It was also getting a little bit lighter, then after a couple more turns, there was a flickering candle up ahead, and the scent of Stiles so thick that Derek snarled, he could smell blood.

He skidded to a stop when he came to the end of the cave, and he was aware of the thrumming nervousness in his chest that came from Stiles.

            The moment that he stopped though, Stiles' nerves vanished, quickly replaced by relief, "Derek!" He sobbed, collapsing forward as Derek ran forward again. The human wrapped his arms around his alpha, tears burning his eyes, and words stumbling through his lips, "You're in your wolf form. You can totally control your wolf form now, that's awesome buddy. Oh God, Peter said that he was going to kill you. He wants to make a new pack and he was going to kill you. I'm so happy that you aren't dead, when I heard Lydia's scream, because I'm sure as hell that everybody in Beacon Hills heard Lydia scream, and you were in pain, and I didn't know what was going to happen. Oh God, I'm happy that you're okay."

            Derek was stiff at first, but as Stiles ranted, he could feel himself relaxing until finally he changed back to his human form and wrapped an arm around Stiles' midriff, making a low rumble of comfort in his chest.  

            Stiles drew back, and so Derek followed suit, the first thing he did was look down at Stiles' hands where one had a long scab across his palm with a lot of dried blood. They stared at each other for a long moment, trying to memorize each other's faces and comfort themselves.

            One moment they were staring at each other, hearts thrumming, and the next moment was like the magnetic force between them finally drew them in. Their lips brushed against each other like whispers at first, whispers that got a little bit louder and a little bit more confident with every caress.

            Derek wrapped a hand around the back of Stiles' neck, the other hand reaching out to hold Stiles' hand, and Stiles' free hand rested gently on his cheek. That moment was every love song that Derek had ever heard wrapped up in every romance movie that Lydia had ever forced the pack to watch on movie night; that moment was everything that he'd ever wanted out of a kiss with somebody. A kiss with _Stiles._

But it couldn't last forever, and Derek knew that he had to break up the moment. Withdrawing and taking a deep breath, Derek rested his forehead against Stiles' "We have to go." He managed to say, "The pack is still fighting Peter. We have to help."

            Stiles nodded, and then looked at his fox with another nod before saying, "Alright, break this damn chain and let's go save our pack."

            The terrain was difficult for Stiles, who struggled to get used to the darkness, and never had a natural dexterity about him, but with Derek there to help steady him when he almost fell, and Cathasach there to lead the way, Stiles managed to make it back with them.

            Just as they got within the distance to really see what was happening, Peter snarled as he snapped his head up towards Derek and Stiles, who had obviously distracted him. He roared out, "No! Stiles will be in my pack. Mine!"

            A shot rang out as a bullet flew through Peter's chest, and there was a solid moment of silence as Derek and Stiles continued to run down the hill. Most of the pack was on their knees, wheezing, Allison was reaching for a bolt that lay on the ground- the one that Peter had tossed aside before. Lydia was petting Erica's hair and fiercely glaring at Peter. Boyd and Isaac were both laying near Lydia, unconscious and bloody. Malia and Cora were crouched and facing Peter, looking exhausted but angry. Jackson was struggling to push himself up and stand, and Scott was holding an unconscious Kira's hand while he stared at Stiles and Derek.

            Dean had just fired the shot at Peter, and he was quickly reloading his gun, while Sam took aim with a shotgun. Castiel had definitely taken a couple of hits, but he was still standing off to the side, wielding his stake.

            Peter's black veins were thick with sickness because of the wolfsbane that the Winchesters had asked permission to bring and his insanity was obviously getting more and more prominent. His nephew knew what he had to do.

Derek swallowed hard, walking down into the fighting grounds, and everybody froze as they watched the two alphas.

"Peter."

The wolf snarled at him.

            It wasn't the first time that Derek had killed. He had killed someone who needed to move on from this life before, Paige had asked him, no, begged him to kill her. She was already dying, she knew that it would only be suffering left for her. As Derek approached his beloved uncle, he knew that Peter had been suffering for a long time. He had never been the same after the fire- he had moments of clarity, but he was sick, and it wasn't until that moment that Derek realized that his uncle was past helping. If Derek let him live, then Peter would only kill more people, only kidnap more people, only hurt more people.

It was time to end his suffering.

 

            When Peter launched himself at Derek, he was acting out of instinct, and Derek jumped to the side, easily dodging the attack. Derek focused on planning, thinking ahead, tiring Peter out. Dodging one way, to another, to another, Derek made absolute sure not to get hurt at all- he couldn't let Stiles get hurt needlessly.

            Finally Peter threw a sloppy hit, and Derek ducked to the side before thrusting his claw into Peter's chest, ripping his thoracic cavity open and slashing his throat with his other hand.

            Peter coughed, stilled, and then slowly, as if Derek was outside of the situation entirely, he watched as his uncle collapsed onto his knees and then after another moment, he fell forward to Derek's feet.

            With his throat torn out, Peter couldn't speak. Couldn't say any last words, but when Derek turned him over and rested a hand against his uncle's cheek with tears clouding his vision, he knew that the tears that Peter cried were the same as his.

Grief for everything that they had ever lost. For their families, for his sanity, for his life, and for Derek, because now Cora and Derek were the last of the Hales.

With one last slow blink, Peter stilled and breathed his last breath.

            A heavy hand rested on Derek's shoulder, a show of comfort and security; he didn't have to turn around to know that it was his emissary. After another moment Cora let out a lonely howl from somewhere behind him.               

                        *                                              *                                              *

            The Rising Alpha.                  The Rising Pack.                    The Rising Beacon.

            It was a mantra that Stiles had taken up after Derek had told him about his experience with the Griffin, years ago, back when the God had first bonded the two of them together.

            Derek had risen to every occasion that he was forced into. He faced every obstacle, and defeated everything that stood in his way with the help of his pack. The Hale pack had been all but dead, and he rose up a new pack to help support the Beacon Hills that seemed to be cursed with disaster. But with the arrival of the Rising Alpha and the Rising Pack, Beacon Hills had become a safe place once again.

Were there still creatures of the night around?

Of course, it was still a beacon, after all, but now the creatures of the night were respectable folks and significantly more well-behaved.

            For example, Stiles was just going over a new tea recipe that the witch-midwife gave him. She said that the tea did wonders for morning sickness, and Stiles knew that that would come in handy soon. The witch came into the supernaturals only portion of his book shop that day (After a lot of research and a lot more banging his head against the wall, Stiles had managed to find a type of wood that acted as a reverse-mountain ash so that only supernaturals could open the door to the back of his shop- to everyone else it seemed locked or stuck, and he had to open it with a spell).

            The sound of the front door opening interrupted him from his recipe, and the pitter patter of a small herd of children was getting louder and louder rapidly approached. Within moments the door to the library burst open to reveal the four children in the pack.

            Alicia was leading their little pack. Her hands extended towards Stiles' desk as she held Cathasach in front of her, "Look at who we found, Uncle Stiles! It's Cathy!"

            Her skin was dark, like her father's, but her eyes were big and her facial features sharp, just like Erica's. Her energy levels were also very far on the Erica side of the parental scale. Stiles chuckled and then rubbed the back of his neck with an apologetic glance to the fox, "Alicia, I don't think that he likes being called Cathy. His name is Cathasach, remember?"

            The three year old girl shrugged, setting the fox on the ground nicely and then she ran over to give him a hug hello. The whole crew gave him a hug; after Alicia was Lorrainne, who was the second oldest, also three years old. Lorrainne had shoulder length red hair with bright blue eyes, and was unbelievable polite. She gave Stiles a tight hug and smiled at him, Stiles smiled back at her and asked, "Did you bring your mom and dad here with you?"

            She nodded and said, "Dad was almost too late at the firm, he almost didn't make it home in time." Stiles nodded gravely then the next two children were up for hugs. Mirai was the youngest, she had recently turned one and she was so adorable it made Stiles want to cry. Scott and Kira won the baby lottery or something, because Mirai rarely cried, hardly whined, and had been sleeping at least 6 hours a night since she was born. She was basically a miracle baby. She snuggled against Stiles for a moment and then stepped aside to give Robert a chance to hug Stiles. Robert was two, and he spent a lot of time holding Mirai's hand so that she didn't fall behind when the other children got excited about something and began to run off.

            Robert hugged Stiles quickly, still holding Mirai's hand in one of his hands. He had the dark hair of his mother, along with the light brown eyes of his father, who surprisingly took quite an interest in the huntress after everything that happened with Peter. Chris Argent hardly felt right letting the Winchesters stay in the motel in town after everything that they had done, so he offered for them to stay at the Argent's house.

            One thing led to another, and without pack-hunter hostility to create tension anymore, Sam and Allison really hit it off, and before they knew it they were married with Robert on the way. Dean and Castiel came and visited pretty often, they were happy together, but Dean struggled settling down quite so closely with so many supernatural creatures around, so they lived in a nearby community. A friend of theirs named Charlie had recently carried their second child to term. The older boy was named Samandriel, but Dean called him Sammy for short, and the new baby girl was named Mary.

            Interrupting Stiles' thoughts, Alicia demanded that they continue on their journey to greet everybody and she lead the children away as Stiles waved goodbye. After they left, he tucked the tea recipe into his pocket, it was time to greet everybody.

            When he went into the main room, the pack was already there, but as usual, Stiles ignored them all to greet one of the two most important people in the room. He knelt down in front of Lydia as she sat on the couch, ignoring her eye roll  he pressed a gentle hand to her round belly, "Hey there, baby girl, is Lydia taking care of you properly?"

Lydia huffed, but said nothing. She had reassured both Stiles and Derek enough times by now that she didn't even bother answering most of their questions anymore.

"You can't be that sure that your child is a girl, Stilinski." Jackson raised his eyebrows at Stiles, and Stiles just rolled his eyes in response, "Puh-lease, she's a girl. Trust me. Derek and my beautiful, beautiful, girl. Going to be a spark, just like me, I bet you are."

            From the corner of his eye, Stiles could see Lydia's fond smile down at him. She never mentioned the fact that it was his sperm and her egg that they had used for the baby. she never mentioned the fact that she was the biological mother. She never even suggested that the baby was any more her's than Derek's.

Stiles had always said that Lydia was perfect.

"Alright, TRADSIES!" Stiles stood up and grinned at Derek, who was cooing over Allison's near-flat belly in a similar fashion, but at Stiles' announcement, Derek stood and turned around with soft eyes and a softer smile. When they passed each other in the middle of the room, Derek and Stiles shared a kiss, to which Erica cheered at, as usual, and, as usual, the couple rolled their eyes at her. Derek knelt in front of Lydia, mumbling about hearing a heartbeat, and telling their baby girl to be nice and stop kicking Lyds.

            Stiles, in turn, knelt before Allison, whose almost flat stomach only had a tiny little baby bump to show for the fact that her egg and Derek's sperm had been successful  impregnating her. Science was the best. Stiles loved science. And pack. And babies.

"Hey there little guy, how are you holding up in there?" Stiles asked, as he smiled at Allison's stomach. Jackson huffed, but Stiles groaned and interrupted before the asshole had a chance to comment, "I just _know_ , alright, douchenozzle?"

Without waiting for a response, Stiles went back to cooing at his future son, "Our little were-buddy. I bet you'll be able to master the full wolf transformation, just like your dad, won't you?"

"Alright, keep baby-talking if you want Stiles, but it's time to watch a movie, and I've been pregnant the longest, so it better be The Notebook!"

"What?!" Stiles squawked, "No way! We should be watching something educational, or a documentary. In a different language! You and I both know about the research that has been done on their ability to learn new languages if they are exposed to more languages in the womb and within their first few years of life!"

Lydia narrowed her eyes and Stiles set his jaw as they prepared for the same argument that they had every pack movie night.

            The rest of the pack just shook their heads fondly and sunk a little deeper into their significant others' sides while the children ran through the living room, declaring that it was time for cookies. 

 

**PREVIEW FROM MY NEXT STORY: Let Fate Decide**

 

Derek glared, "What makes you think I'll let you join my pack?"

            The boy's glare collapsed. His mouth fell open slightly, his eyes grew wider, and his eyebrows furrowed together slightly. Scott shifted uneasily from the corner of Derek's vision, but he ignored him, waiting for the stranger-- Stiles-- to answer.

"I abandoned my training for you!"

Derek rose an eyebrow.

"I _walked_ from _Peru_."

Derek frowned, "You didn't walk all the way from Peru in sixty one days."

"Well I didn't fly! I walked as much as I physically was able in order to get here on time,  I canoed and train hopped when I had to. The point is- I underwent trauma!"

Derek deadpanned him.

"I had visions of your pack the whole way here."

Derek narrowed his eyes.

" _Siktir_ ," the way Stiles hissed the word gave Derek the distinct impression that it was less than courteous, "Your deceased family contacted me _from the grave_ and lead me to you. I don't even have a map!"

            Derek was determined not to dwell on the comment about his family. He was lying. He had to be lying despite his steady pulse. The alpha wasn't ready to face the thought of his family. Instead, he tried to keep the strain out of his voice as he asked, "Why are you naked?"

**Summary:**

_After spirits contact the shaman, Stiles Stilinski, he sets out to join the Hale pack in Beacon Hills. He knows that his destiny is entwined with the wolves, and for the first time he has an actual purpose. Unfortunately things are not always so easy, with unforeseen competition, an Alpha who doesn't trust easily and a pack of young wolves, Stiles discovers that his destiny isn't quite so easy to follow as it appeared._

_Derek didn't ask for much. All he wanted was a pack and some peace, but apparently that was too much to ask for because all of a sudden he has more emissaries in his territory than he can really deal with and now he just wants Stiles to put on some damn clothes and stop talking about the deceased Hale family._

 

**_I will be posting the first chapter of Let Fate Decide at some point within the next week- keep an eye out or subscribe if you're interested! :)_**

**_Also I wrote a little drabble and posted it at a part 2-  it's just about labour and the babies (what they look like, names, what the sheriff is like as a grandpa, stuff like that) if you guys are interested._ **


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